Foundations
by etthealien7
Summary: The Marauders' first week at Hogwarts. Includes the Hogwarts Express, the Sorting, Snape, arguments, tragic backstories, and plenty of goofing off. (Part 1 of my canon multi-part Marauders series.)
1. Dumbledore's Solution

**Author's Note**

_Hello reader! Thanks for stopping by! :) As this is the first chapter in the multi-part Marauder's series that I'm planning out, I thought I should list a few key points that will carry over throughout the series: _

_\- Each part will be told in alternating first-person-POV, with five chapters following a pattern: Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, Remus. This is in part because *cough* I like Remus *cough*, but mainly because I find that order most convenient for the storytelling. Also, I am a hopeless romantic, and I think it's poetic that the story of the Marauders would start and end with Remus, seeing as his condition/kindness brought them together and he was the last of the four to die. (UGH. Yeah.) __And yes, I do write from Peter's POV...I like to think he started out like your average 11-year-old: awkward and just wanting to fit in._

_\- __I plan on uploading each five-chapter part once the entire part is finished, rather than uploading one chapter at a time._

_\- The chapter lengths are based off what is happening in the story and the POV-pattern, so some end up considerably longer than the others (with some breaks here and there)._

_\- I try hard to keep the story as canon as possible, but in some cases I bend the timeline a bit, such as in the case of Andromeda still being at Hogwarts in their first year. There are also a few things that I've invented completely based on canon information, such as parts of Sirius's backstory. But that's the whole point of fanfiction, right? :)_

_Without further ado...I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you do! Constructive criticism is always appreciated._

_Thanks! :D_

_-E.T._

* * *

_Dumbledore's Solution_

_Remus_

For the third time that afternoon, I wondered why I didn't just bury my head under the covers and try to get some sleep. I should've been exhausted – and I was, at least physically. But even the day after the full moon, when I should've been in a veritable coma, my heart thumped like I was running a marathon as I listened to my parents' distressed voices drifting up through the vent next to my bed. Their conversation was barely more than a whisper, but the familiar strains rang in my ears as if they were shouting.

"We can't live like this anymore, Lyall. We need a _real_ solution."

"You think I don't see that? I've been searching for _six_ _years_, you know how difficult it is. This is simply the best we can do right now."

"What about next year, and the year after that? He's already almost too much to handle on those terrible nights, and he's only ten going on eleven! We need something _permanent_. Changing towns every year, keeping him away from the other kids – it just isn't healthy for any of us! Especially Remus, the poor boy...we can't just keep him locked up all this time! He's going to hurt himself – or, God forbid, _someone else_. He nearly broke down the door last night! What will happen when he's stronger than your Reinforcing charms?"

"I know, dear, I know. I'm _trying_. I haven't stopped looking since the day he'd been bitten, and I certainly don't intend to stop until I've found a better solution. Just give me a little more time."

"Time." She paused for a moment. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath the whole time until she spoke again, so quietly I almost missed it over my own sharp inhale: "I wish you'd never met that bastard."

My mother hardly ever cursed, and never when I was around. But hearing her say that word wasn't as startling to me anymore. She'd used that phrase several times in the past year, and I'd overheard enough conversations like this to know that most of them ended here. Now my father would say something comforting – or apologetic, in a voice strained with guilt. I preferred the former. I think my mother did too.

Whether I wanted to believe it or not, the past few months of eavesdropping on my parents had revealed several unpleasant truths to me.

First, I'd learned that my father was at least in part responsible for the excruciating transformations I underwent every month, and though I wasn't sure how, I think he knew the werewolf that infected me. Either way, I don't blame him for it. My parents had always shown me nothing but love and kindness, even with the burden I put on them. They'd sacrificed everything to keep me safe and...well, relatively happy, I suppose, all things considered. Neither of them would ever do something to deliberately hurt me – I was certain of that.

Second, I'd come to realize just how much strain my condition was putting on the two people I loved the most. Before I'd overheard them the first time, it had somehow been a bit easier to ignore my mother's occasional slip of the tongue, or the ever-spreading gray streaks in her long brown hair, or the teary look in her eyes every time anyone brought up the full moon. It had also been easier to dismiss the new lines on my father's face, or the stricken look that would flash in his eyes, which I now recognized as guilt.

Third, I'd been given a clear reminder that I was running out of time. For most of the full moons since I was four, it would be enough to lock me in the spare bedroom with a few Silencing spells until I wore myself out. Ever since my age had hit double digits, though, my other form had developed the habit of smashing windows and breaking down doors, which made it much more difficult to restrain me at the time I was most dangerous.

And finally, I've discovered that I'm apparently a masochist, since I knew all these things already and did nothing to prevent myself from hearing it all over again.

Mentally scolding myself for not shoving my pillows against my ears at the first sound of hushed voices, I heaved my stiff body out of bed and began to pace, trying to wear myself out. The dull pain that rippled through my exhausted limbs with every step made that sentiment seem redundant. (The short nap I'd had after moonrise hadn't been nearly enough for my aching bones to recover.) But my mind, with all its acute human emotions – worry, shame, guilt, fear – had already slid back into place, as if for the sole purpose of preventing me from resting.

Even though all those emotions were pointless, seeing as I had no solution to any of the problems.

So I paced.

Until, for a brief moment, I paused and stared at my window, where the daylight was seeping in through a crack in the curtains, and I considered running away. The shame in my gut doubled over at the idea. I knew that course of action would devastate my parents more than anything I could do to them by staying. Plus, I doubted I could survive very long on my own. I was only eleven, for Merlin's sake, and I barely knew how to control my magic, much less fend for myself in the wilderness. And if I couldn't find a reliable way to contain myself during full moons...

I shuddered. Stomach churning, I tore my eyes away from the window and continued to pace, taking deep breaths in time with the loud creaking of the floorboards beneath me. (I swear, anyone could tell where my family had stayed over the years by testing the floorboards in the smallest bedrooms – I must have worn out half the floors in England by now. I told myself I ought to start keeping a tally, but I was too exhausted and queasy to manage a smirk at the thought.)

Suddenly, a brisk knock at the front door made me freeze in my tracks. Who on earth would be visiting us?We'd only lived in this small cottage in Cornwall for two months, and we had no neighbors within a kilometer radius and no friends left to speak of – both courtesy of my condition. Rigid with tension, I stared at my bedroom door, half-expecting an official-looking bloke to barge in and take me away to some camp for Dark creatures. Then an unfamiliar male voice rose from the kitchen vent, gentle and filled with warmth.

"Good day, Lyall. It's wonderful to see you again."

"Professor!" My father's tone was a mix of pleasant surprise and anticipation. "Come in, come in! Oh, Merlin. Let me tidy up a bit." Over my father's hurried talking, I could hear the clinking of dishes and glasses magically cleaning themselves and levitating into their respective cabinets. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. We weren't expecting any company today. Ah, I suppose I should introduce you to my wife, Hope. Dear, this is Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts."

Feeling like I'd just been punched in the gut, I began to creep out of my room and down the stairs, as quietly as my sore limbs would allow. Despite the sense of dread building in the pit of my stomach, I'd heard plenty of stories about my father's old headmaster – mainly that he was one of the greatest wizards alive, and one of the wisest and kindest too. That had me dying to steal a glimpse of him, even though I fully expected him to flinch back at the sight of me. (Most people did, especially so soon after the full moon. I figured the sickly hue of my face and the fresh scars along my arms and legs didn't help much.)

"Pleased to meet you, Headmaster," my mother was saying in her most polite voice, though she seemed a bit nervous. When I had snuck far enough downstairs to peer into the kitchen, I could see why. Professor Dumbledore was a rather intimidating wizard, tall and poised in his long midnight-blue robes and pointed hat, with a long white beard and white hair down the length of his back. His expression, though, was the opposite of intimidating. It reminded me of my Great Uncle Fletcher – back before I was bitten, when he'd still come around to visit and bring me presents from the places he'd traveled. Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled playfully behind his spectacles, and he wore a relaxed, almost childlike smile, like he'd just happened to find this cottage in the woods and thought everything about it was simply delightful.

Still, I could tell my Muggle mother was startled to see a wizard like Dumbledore show up on her doorstep in full attire, especially when he was more than a foot taller than her and his beard was longer than her braid. She had married into the magical world, so she'd learned a lot from my father, but some things just took a bit for her to get used to. Dumbledore was apparently one of those things. The existence of werewolves had been another.

"The pleasure is all mine," the headmaster replied, bowing his head and giving my mother a very bright smile, which seemed to ease her nerves a little.

"What brings you to visit, sir?" My father inquired, and the note of anticipation was back. "Surely Peeves isn't causing any serious trouble again?"

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I daresay he's as challenging as ever, though there have been no such issues as the last time I called on your expertise. I am actually here to talk to your son, Remus."

I stiffened in my hiding place halfway down the stairs, and my heart thudded against my ribs. My parents exchanged a brief look of concern before my father pressed, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore assured. "Although I must apologize for my poor timing."

My stomach squirmed a little. Could he possibly know that it was the day after the full moon?

"However," the headmaster continued, "starting tomorrow, I will be away for several weeks on business, and I thought it would be best to speak with him as soon as possible, to give him more time to prepare."

"Prepare for what, exactly?" My mother asked, voicing a protective version of my own question.

"School, of course. I've heard he has a gift for magic, much like his father. I would be happy to welcome him to attend Hogwarts this year."

For a few seconds, my parents were floored. Several emotions surged through me at once: shock, excitement, dread – and most prominently, joy. But my father's reply choked the happy feeling. "We're honored, sir, that you came personally to tell us this, but I'm afraid Remus won't be able to attend. We've already got it sorted out that I'll be teaching him from home, you see."

Dumbledore smile dimmed. "And I believe you would make a very capable teacher, Lyall. But surely, you've considered that his education may benefit from the variety that Hogwarts offers? And, more to the point, I find that children tend to branch out and make connections in their school years. Wouldn't you like your son to be able to do the same?"

_Yes, say yes!_ I begged in my head, but my father was shaking his head. "I'm afraid it's just not possible. I'm sorry, sir, but—"

His response was cut short as I rushed down the rest of the stairs in desperation, only to stumble and nearly fall at the bottom. I managed to catch myself on the railing, but I gasped at the strain on my already sore arm, which now felt like hundreds of fire ants were crawling up it. Blushing, I inadvertently looked straight into a pair of twinkling blue eyes that were much too knowing for my liking. I hastily turned my eyes to my socks, mortified that I'd just made a fool out of myself in front of the wise old wizard.

"Remus! Are you okay? Oh, sweetheart, you're supposed to be resting!" My mother hurried to my side, her thin eyebrows knitted with concern. I nodded mutely, still staring at my feet. "Come on, then, up to bed with you," she instructed firmly-but-gently, steering me back toward the stairs.

"Wait, Mum," I blurted, realizing I was missing my only chance. "Can't I go to Hogwarts? Please?" I put all my emotion into the pale green eyes that I'd gotten from my father. When she looked down at me, tears glistened in her eyelashes, and she pressed her lips together she was trying to regain her composure. A familiar dose of shame made me blink back tears of my own. It was cruel of me, trying to get her to agree to something she wanted to agree to, even though I knew she couldn't. _It's too dangerous,_ she'd say, every time I'd asked to play with the other kids. _They might find out what you are and hurt you. _

She was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. Werewolves were seen as monsters by wizards and Muggles alike, even though I was only _really_ a monster once a month. But even the idea of that was enough to make people uncomfortable – or outright hateful – when they were around me. As a kid who just wanted to fit in, that fact had never been very easy for me to swallow.

I knew that, by now, I probably should've given up on asking for things. But it was just so unfair, and a selfish part of me hoped that one time she might make an exception – that she might relent and let me at least _pretend_ that I was normal. Maybe I would even make _friends_. Merlin, I missed having friends...

But I could tell by the look in her eyes that it was no use. _Too dangerous. They might find out._

"I don't see any reason why you would not be able to attend school, Remus, if you so desire."

I shut my eyes and shook my head, still refusing to meet those calm blue eyes. The old headmaster didn't understand. The instant he found out what I was, he'd be out the door, grateful that my parents had helped him dodge a bullet.

"Professor, Remus has a serious medical condition—" My father insisted, avoiding my eye; he hated squashing my hopes just as much as my mother did.

"I am aware of his Lycanthropy," Dumbledore responded serenely, flooring everyone in the room for the second time.

Stunned, I forgot my embarrassment and met his blue eyes. His gaze was fascinating, somehow managing to hold kindness, sympathy, and fondness all at once. Even more mesmerizing was the lack of judgment or disdain that I so frequently found in the eyes of people who weren't my parents. For a long moment, I was unable to look away.

"How?" My father's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I have my sources. And Fenrir Greyback has never been very inclined to keep his..._conquests_ private," Dumbledore explained quietly, and something cold flashed in his eyes. Then his expression softened, and he smiled at me. "In any case, I do not intend to let one man's actions prevent a perfectly good student from receiving an education." He turned back to my parents, who still looked like they'd been Stupified. "I understand Remus will need certain safeguards if he were to attend school. These are already in order in anticipation of his arrival." His eyes twinkled as his gaze met mine again. "That is, if he is still interested."

For the first time in years, I felt myself grinning purely out of joy.


	2. The Brave of Heart

_The Brave of Heart_

_James_

Standing in the bright and beautiful Platform 9¾, I was buzzing with excitement. Growing up listening to my parents' stories about their school years had given me very high expectations and left little room for patience. The last few weeks after I'd gotten my invitation had been agonizing for me – and for my parents too, since I'd been pesting them nonstop for all the details.

But now the waiting was over – finally! Today was the day I went to Hogwarts!

I couldn't keep a giddy grin off my face as I took it all in: wizards of all sizes, some regal-looking and some rather ordinary, a few wearing Muggle clothes but most in billowing robes; students carrying owls in cages and wheeling large carts piled high with their school trunks and cauldrons; and, of course, the impressive red and black steam engine right in front of me: _The Hogwarts Express_.

"What do you think?" Dad asked from aside of me. He seemed to be enjoying my reaction.

With great effort, I killed my smile and shrugged. "It's alright, I guess."

Dad chuckled. Next to him, Mum looped one arm around his waist and leaned her head onto his shoulder with a sad smile. "Our little boy is growing up so fast!"

"Gross, Mum."

Undeterred, she let go of Dad and pulled me into a strangling hug. Despite my previous comment, I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her for a few seconds, surrounded by the familiar smell of her honey shampoo. Remembering that I was in a public place full of my soon-to-be peers, I broke away hastily, straightening the bottom of my shirt for something to do with my hands. It made me feel a little better when I noticed several of the other kids (even the older ones) hugging their parents goodbye as well.

Mum raised her eyebrows at me. "Don't tell me my son is getting too old to hug his mother in public?" Her voice was chiding but gentle.

I grinned. "Love you."

Her expression softened, and I knew I'd won. "Oh, James," she murmured fondly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"It may be wiser to ask what you're going to do _without_ him, now," Dad pointed out.

"The house is going to be so quiet," she complained.

"Quiet and peaceful," Dad agreed in a cheery tone, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mum slapped him on the shoulder. "Monty!"

"What? I didn't say I wouldn't miss him."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You'll be totally bored without me messing around with all of your gadgets from work and breaking stuff on my broom."

Dad smiled. "I reckon you're right. I'll have to pick up a new hobby."

"Working full time catching dark wizards isn't enough to hold your interest?" Mum teased him.

"—the state of this place, full of Mudbloods and filth—"

Dad's response was lost as he frowned in the direction of the speaker. A pristine witch with long black hair and dark eyes was muttering as she passed by. She would've been pretty if not for the disdain in her voice and the deep scowl etched into her face. Her gaze lingered on a thin brown-haired boy who was saying good-bye to his parents. His dad's robes were a bit shabby, and his mum looked like a Muggle.

Two black-haired boys followed the austere woman. By the looks of them, they were her sons. The younger one was tugging on her sleeve and gazing at the train with longing.

"Mother, can't I just—"

"Be quiet, Regulus," she ordered stiffly. "You'll get your turn next year."

The boy named Regulus scowled, but he wasn't the only one who looked unhappy. The other dark-haired boy, apparently his older brother, was walking a few steps behind them, pushing a trolley and looking grateful to have something to put between himself and his family. None of them gave us a passing glance.

"Speaking of dark wizards," Dad murmured, turning to me soberly. "Make sure you stay away from people like that. Anyone who uses the word 'Mudblood' is bad news."

I nodded, feeling uneasy. The older of the two boys looked about my age. Would he be in my class? Determined to make an impression on my potential rival, I stood a little straighter and let my defiance show in my face. Then I felt silly, given that the boy hadn't even _seen_ me.

Mum's voice reigned in my thoughts. "You'd better hurry and find a compartment, or all the good seats will be taken," she advised, pointing to the other students getting into the train. Then she continued in a motherly tone, "Are you sure you have everything? Your wand? All your textbooks? Oh, and Iris, of course…"

"Mum, I'll be fine," I replied in an exasperated way, but I was smiling. Wearing a teary smile of her own, she gave me another quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and my dad wrapped me in a brief hug as well.

"I love you guys," I said as we broke apart.

"We love you too, kid," Dad echoed proudly. "Go get 'em! And remember to write us every now and then!"

"I will!" I assured, tossing a grin over my shoulder at them as I headed toward the nearest open compartment. A sudden bout of sadness gripped my heart. I hesitated, taking one last look at my smiling parents. Then I took a deep breath and stepped onto the train.

The compartment I had picked was empty, except for one boy who was currently storing his trunk on one of the shelves above the booths. When he turned, I recognized him as the brown-haired boy with the Muggle-looking mum. I put on my biggest, friendliest smile, which wasn't hard with the fresh wave of excitement that had just washed over me. _I'm on the train. It's really happening!_

The other boy seemed to share the sentiment. At first, he'd looked nervous, but when I'd smiled at him, his hesitation had all but evaporated. His eyes lit up and he beamed back at me, glowing with unbridled, contagious happiness. I decided I liked him.

"You're a first year too?" I asked, and he nodded. Then I stuck my chin up and held out my hand, all professional like Dad had taught me. "James Potter."

My gesture seemed to catch him off guard, but he smiled and shook my hand anyway. He was a little taller than me – thinner too – but his grip was strong. "Remus Lupin."

I raised my eyebrows. "The boy who was raised by wolves?"

I thought I saw him tense for a second, but when I blinked it was gone, replaced by sheepishness. "My mother went through a bit of a mythology phase," he explained, blushing a little.

"It's okay," I chuckled. "It's not nearly as bad as my dad's." He furrowed his eyebrows, and I whispered theatrically. "His name's _Fleamont_."

Remus snorted. Then he pressed his lips together, fighting a smile. "Sorry. I shouldn't laugh."

"Nah, he knows it's awful. It was my gram's maiden name. On the bright side, he said he got lots of practice dueling, from people making fun of him." Concern appeared in in Remus's eyes, and I continued cheerfully, "Oh, don't worry. Lots of wizards have uncommon names. You'll fit right in."

Remus smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. His initial nervousness seemed to have returned. Brushing it off, I hefted my trunk to store it on the shelves, and Remus immediately moved to help. With a quick word of thanks, I placed my tawny owl, Iris (who looked disgruntled about these new arrangements) on the shelf as well, and the two of us sat down across from each other.

"So which House are you hoping to be in, Remus?" I asked him, inserting eagerly, "I'm going for Gryffindor, myself."

"Oh, I wouldn't really mind either way."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You haven't even thought about it?"

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I'm just happy to be going to Hogwarts, mainly. But I suppose Gryffindor would be nice. That's where my dad was."

I nodded vigorously. "Mine too, and the rest of my family. It's the best House there is, you know."

Remus seemed amused. "That's what my dad says, too. Doesn't everyone think their own House is the best?"

I shrugged. "Sure, but that doesn't mean they're right. Take Slytherins, for example."

Just then, the compartment door slid open and a redheaded girl in a green flowery dress stepped inside, dragging her trunk behind her. When she noticed Remus and I, she hastily looked away, but not before I glimpsed the redness of her eyes and the faint blotches on her cheeks. Sniffing, she walked past us and shoved her trunk under the table in the farthest corner. Then she sat down, curled her legs onto the seat, and leaned her head against the window with her jaw clenched, clearly trying not to cry.

Remus met my eyes with a mix of confusion and concern. _Homesick? _I mouthed, shrugging. He frowned a little more, looking at the girl like he was considering going over and talking to her. I wasn't sure why; it seemed pretty clear to me that she wanted to be left alone. Then the compartment door opened a second time – and from that point on, my attention was elsewhere.

It was _him_.

I felt a pang in my gut when I recognized the older of the two dark-haired boys whose mother had called Remus's mum a Mudblood. From the doorway, his slate-gray eyes skimmed the compartment, lingering inquisitively on the girl in the corner before coming to rest on me. I felt my gaze harden as our eyes met, but I tried to keep my expression cool and detached. After all, I didn't want to make an enemy so soon – not before he'd even spoken a word to me.

The black-haired boy hesitated. Then he looked at Remus, and something unexpected glimmered in his eyes. _Recognition? Hope?_ Holding his head high, he stepped into the compartment and pulled his trunk toward us. "Mind if I sit here?" He asked Remus coolly.

"Not at all," Remus responded, moving over for him. My insides clenched as the boy slid his trunk under our table and sank into the booth across from me. Apparently, Remus was oblivious to my discomfort – either that, or he was too nice for his own good. "I'm Remus Lupin, and this is James Potter," he introduced us, wearing the same friendly smile that he'd initially given me. "We're first years."

"Me too. The name's Sirius Black," the dark-haired boy responded with a smile that mirrored Remus's enthusiasm, if only slightly dimmed. There was a strange note in his voice that I couldn't make out.

_Black_. I racked my brain. The name sounded unpleasantly familiar. I had a feeling Dad had mentioned it before. But..._Sirius_?

"Seriously?"

His resulting expression made me want to flick him, if only to startle that haughty look off his face. Up close, his eyes were like storm clouds: unnerving and volatile. It looked like he was assessing whether I was just making a joke or deliberately being obnoxious. I wasn't totally sure myself. Then he glanced at Remus, who was smiling, and his lips twitched into a tight smirk.

"Yes, _seriously_."

However annoying he was, I had to admit that Sirius Black was good-looking. Everything about him screamed pure-blood, from his high cheekbones to the tousled mop of black hair that just barely brushed against his shoulders. Sitting next to Remus, I couldn't help but notice how different they were. Sure, Remus was nice-looking, but not in the attention-commanding way that Sirius was. His light brown hair was neat, his gray-green eyes were warm and friendly, and he had a polite, composed vibe. He wasn't intimidating in the slightest – but Sirius was another story. His colorless eyes and dark lashes were a bit startling, and his jet-black hair contrasted sharply against his pale skin. To top it all, his expression proclaimed loudly: _I'm better than you, and we both know it._

In short, I hated his guts.

People like his family were the kind that my dad fought to bring to justice. Everything they stood for – the Dark Arts, Voldemort, blood purity, persecuting Muggles – was everything my family stood _against,_ sometimes at risk to their own lives. There was a war going on, for Merlin's sake! Being forced to sit across from this Dark boy with that snobby look on his face...how could I _not_ hate his guts?

"Well, it looks like you were right, James," Remus remarked innocently, "about a lot of wizards having uncommon names."

"Oh. Right."

Sirius turned to Remus, and his expression relaxed a bit. "I bet you get that a lot too, huh? Mine's a family tradition. A whole lot of us are named after stars and constellations. I think it's a bit mad, personally, but I suppose I got off easy, compared to some of my cousins. Brightest star in the sky and all."

Barely containing a derisive noise, I watched him suspiciously. His light tone seemed a little forced, like he was holding back. I tensed. Was it because he thought Remus's mum was a Muggle? Did he have an ulterior motive for sitting with us? Anger and defensiveness burned in my chest, and my fingers curled around the edge of the booth.

Sirius noticed my expression. At once, his smile slipped, and his gray eyes lost the flicker of warmth that they'd held when he'd spoken to Remus. For a second, the emotions on his face were clear: a mix of disappointment and frustration, a surge of defiance. Then his expression closed again, and he fixed me with that haughty look – which I now realized was a facade. Something like guilt twisted my insides, and I suddenly understood.

_I_ was the reason he was holding back.

Apparently, Sirius was more perceptive than I gave him credit for – or maybe I was just being a bit obvious with my dislike. Either way, it seemed like he hated my guts too, and at the moment, I almost agreed with him. He was actually trying to be friendly, and I was being a git.

I drank in a slow breath and loosened my grip on the booth. _You've just met him. He hasn't even been Sorted yet. Give him a chance._

Remus was now glancing at the two of us uneasily, like he could feel the tension thickening the air. It seemed Sirius wasn't the only perceptive one.

To his credit, Sirius still hadn't looked away from me, and his unsettling eyes were narrowed in a challenging way. Part of me wanted to glare right back at him until one of us looked away, and another part of me wanted to blurt angrily, "What's your problem?"

I had to remind myself that _I_ was the one with the problem.

"Do you like Quidditch, Sirius?" I asked instead, hoping that it didn't sound too forced. I focused on the idea of flying and tried for a natural smile.

Sirius's glare softened a little, and he searched my eyes again. The air was so charged, I felt like my ears were ringing. Then, slowly, a real smile curled his lips. "What kind of question is that? I _love_ Quidditch! Can you fly?"

His shameless enthusiasm shattered the tension almost instantly. I found it easy to smile back at him, and the knot in my chest started to unravel. "Mum always said I've been on a broom ever since I could walk," I bragged. "Dad set up some goal posts for me in the yard a few years ago, too. He and Mum used to play on the team at Hogwarts, so they like to coach me."

"Your parents sound so cool," Sirius enthused, not bothering to hide the longing in his voice. "Mine don't own any brooms, but my Uncle Alphard lets me use his whenever I visit. He always says I'm a natural." He turned to his right. "What about you, Remus? Are you any good at flying?"

"I'm not sure. I've never tried," Remus answered timidly. "To be honest, I'm not very familiar with Quidditch in general."

Sirius ogled him like he'd just uttered a string of curses, but I hardly noticed since I was too busy doing the same. "You've never flown at all?" Sirius demanded in shock.

"Do you at least know how to play?" I added urgently.

Remus seemed surprised by our reactions. He shook his head, glancing between us with trepidation.

Sirius and I exchanged disbelieving looks. Then a roguish grin split his face. "Well, then," he announced, "It looks like you're in need of some pre-Hogwarts education from Professor Black and Professor Potter." He arched an eyebrow at me invitingly. His gray eyes were gleaming now, warm and full of mischief. I felt an undeniable spark of friendship.

Wearing my own devilish grin, I replied in the same tone, "Indeed you are, my young pupil."

Wasting no time, the two of us launched into in-depth explanations of the rules of the game, along with various tactics, our favorite teams, and some personal experiences for good measure. With Sirius, the whole process felt completely natural. Whenever I was wondering how to continue, he picked up the thread of conversation so easily that it sounded like we'd planned the switch. Likewise, whenever he missed something, I filled in the gaps for him. We argued briefly over strategy and eventually agreed on the benefits of both tactics. I'd never met someone my age who was as enthusiastic about Quidditch as I was, or who read my mind and played off my words so fluently as Sirius seemed to be able to. To say I was impressed would've been an understatement. I was really starting to like him – and really starting to feel stupid for judging him so harshly.

For the first few minutes of our lecture, Remus had seemed overwhelmed, but he'd relaxed significantly by the end, at which point Sirius started (very dramatically) telling us a childhood story about flying a broom through his uncle's sitting room window and crash-landing in the lit fireplace. We were all laughing so much that we barely noticed when the train started moving, or when a boy with greasy black hair and a beak-like nose entered our compartment and sat down across from the redheaded girl. Eventually, when our laughter had died down, his drawling voice caught my attention:

"—better be in Slytherin."

"Slytherin? Who wants to be in Slytherin?" I blurted, turning to frown at the boy in the corner. He glared at me with eyes like black holes, and I glared right back. I didn't have to have an Auror for a dad to know that Slytherin House had almost-singlehandedly produced all the Dark wizards in England – and this pasty, scowling boy _wanted_ to be in it? Well, I supposed he fit the bill. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Sirius. "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Sirius looked uncomfortable. "My whole family have been in Slytherin," he admitted.

Suddenly queasy, I stared at him for a moment, struggling to process that the boy I'd just befriended so quickly might very well be a future Slytherin. Then I remembered that sparkle of mischief in his eyes that reminded me so much of myself, and my stomach settled. I cracked a smile.

"And I thought you seemed alright!"

A wave of relief split his face into a handsome grin. "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart'," I recited proudly, lifting an invisible sword. "Like my dad." The greasy-haired boy made a disgruntled sound, and I turned on him again. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," he said, but the smug smirk on his face said otherwise. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy—"

"Where are you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" Sirius inserted, and I burst out laughing.

The red-haired girl scowled at us. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment," she said in a snobby tone. Now that she was no longer crying and actually looking at me, I couldn't help but notice that how pretty she was. Her glare was unwavering, and her almond-shaped eyes were as green as emeralds. I kind of wished she'd keep glaring at me, but then she turned to leave, and Sirius's mocking tone brought me back to my senses.

"Ooh, come on, Severus—"

"—let's find another compartment," I finished for him in the same snooty falsetto, and both of us laughed.

The pretty redhead ignored us and walked out. As the boy named Severus stomped after her, I stuck out my foot, but he made a point to step over it. "See ya, Snivellus!" Sirius called as the boy slammed the door behind him. Then he turned back to me and rolled his eyes. "What an idiot. He'll make it to Slytherin, no problem."

"Yeah. I wonder why that girl was hanging around him," I thought aloud, vaguely annoyed.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, smirking. "Jealous?"

"What? No! I just meant—I don't think she seems much like a Slytherin, that's all."

He suddenly looked uneasy. "What about me? You think I'll be in Slytherin?"

If he'd asked me the same question about ten minutes ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. I didn't hesitate now either. "No way! You'd better be in Gryffindor with me, or I'll have to kick your butt in every Quidditch match!"

Sirius grinned, clearly pleased. He elbowed Remus. "You're going to try for Gryffindor too, then?"

Remus, who had been silent for the entire altercation with the Slytherin boy, nodded a little timidly. "I'm planning on channeling my inner James."

His joke brought on an unexpected wave of anxiety. "What if _I_ break tradition?" I asked, unable to keep a hint of doubt from escaping.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and my mother is a hippogriff. Listen, James, you're a Gryffindor if I've ever met one."

I raised my eyebrows. "_Have_ you ever met one, Mr. My-Whole-Family-Is-Slytherin?"

That caught him off guard. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, blushing. Remus chuckled, and I gave him a teasing smirk. I got the impression that Sirius didn't embarrass easily – and, like any real friend, I had no intention of cutting him a break.

He pouted. "Oh, whatever." Then his fake scowl turned into a real grimace, and his eyebrows knitted with concern. "I just hope you're right about me. I don't want to be stuck with Snivellus."

Summoning the look that my dad always gave me whenever I was nervous, I rested my arms on the table and said firmly, "Trust me. You're nothing like him."

And by the way his eyes blazed, I knew I was right.


	3. Breaking Tradition

_Breaking Tradition_

_Sirius_

"I think the train is slowing down."

Remus's tense remark sprung up during a lull in conversation, causing a chill to settle over me. I looked out the window, expecting to see the huge castle looming over me, but all I could see was trees. Still, I felt sick to my stomach. The idea of the Sorting Ceremony terrified me much more than I'd let on to my new friends.

I'd come to Hogwarts already knowing that I didn't want to be like the rest of my family. My parents and most of my relatives were as strict and proper as pure-bloods come, stuffing my head (and my brother's) with their hateful opinions of Muggles and anyone who associated with them. Until I was about seven years old, I'd just gone along with it. I didn't really know anything else. They were snobby and annoying, sure, but they were my parents, and I was the golden child, the oldest son, the heir to the family fortune.

But I was _so_ _bored, _holed up in that depressing manor all the time. I was hardly allowed out of the house, since we lived in a primarily Muggle neighborhood. Whenever I did escape, though, it was usually only to run errands with my mother, go to some awkward family dinner, or have a stupid play date with whiny pure-blood kids. So, as I got older, I entertained myself by pushing my parents' limits – little by little and all the time. I hid their wands. I drew on the walls and scribbled the names of famous people on the family tree tapestry. I cut and pasted my mother's best dress robes into a Chudley Cannons banner. I locked Regulus in the basement, twice. (The second time, he was so mad after, he managed to magically hang me from the ceiling by my feet, the tough little brat.)

Despite me channeling all my excess energy into driving them insane, my parents could never really stay mad at me. They would yell for a while, and once they got bored of that, they would lock me in my room for a few hours – which was really no different than how I usually spent my days. Then they would magically fix everything I'd done and act like it had never happened. It was oddly maddening.

It went on like that for about three years, with my antics getting progressively worse, until I finally decided to break their biggest rule: no associating with the neighbor kids. Every day around dusk, I'd noticed that a group of boys met up at the park down the street, and I wanted to know what they were up to. I started sneaking out at night to spy on them...and I ended up _befriending_ them.

Yep. A member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, one of the purist wizarding families in England, was friends with a bunch of Muggles.

At first, I was only doing it as a sort of ultimate rebellion against my parents. I knew they would be horrified if they could see me acting like a Muggle in a group of Muggles. Then, slowly but surely, something changed in me. The more time I spent with my new friends, the more I realized that all the rubbish that my parents had shoved down my throat was...well, _rubbish_.

According to my parents, Muggles were the bane of wizards' existence. They were closed-minded, selfish people, and they tended to attack things that they didn't understand – a pattern which pushed magical people into hiding. Recently, some wizards (pure-bloods, mostly) started to retaliate against Muggles (and anyone who defended them) by tormenting them and sometimes even killing them. My parents approved of these efforts around the dinner table, though they considered themselves above that level of violence. Still, as I often sarcastically pointed out to them, attacking and killing people is illegal and generally frowned upon…hence the current divide in the magical world. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters only organized and enhanced the animosity that was already there.

But my Muggle friends didn't know about any of that muck – and they contradicted my childhood opinions straight away by accepting me into their group with hardly a thought. At first, I'd hidden my magic from them, but as I grew more comfortable around them and started to see that they weren't all that different from me, I decided to show them what I could do. It took me a few days to convince them that it was really magic, but once I did, they practically worshipped me – and they already thought I was cool _before_. After that, I skyrocketed on the popularity charts from the new kid to the leader. My magic became the focus of all their schemes and pranks, and their unconcealed admiration made me truly question my upbringing.

For those few glorious months, I had real friends, and I was happier than ever. My parents were still annoyingly stringent, but I didn't feel the need to harass them anymore. I was too busy scheming about what I was going to get up to with the other boys.

I should've known it wouldn't last.

My parents were relieved by the change in my behavior, but eventually they got suspicious. One night, they caught me sneaking out and discovered who I was hanging out with. They were more than horrified; they were _furious_. I'd never seen my father's face so white. That was the first time he threatened to beat me – and I'll admit, it scared the crap out of me. They grounded me for a week and magically sealed the window in my room so I couldn't get out.

For that whole first day, I actually behaved, purely out of self-preservation. But I missed my friends, and not even the image of my dad's face twisted with anger could keep me from worrying that I was abandoning them. By then, I was almost school age, and my magic was becoming stronger. I figured out how to break the seal on the window, and I snuck out again.

That's when everything took a turn for the worse.

When I met up with my Muggle friends, they didn't recognize me at all. I thought they were joking around, but when they didn't stop, I got frustrated with them. Then they called me a freak and threatened to beat me up if I didn't leave them alone. It was at that moment that I realized what my parents had done: they'd hunted down my Muggle friends and magically erased all their memories of me.

The resulting row was the worst yet. I was _livid_. My parents had singlehandedly ruined the only friendships I'd ever had. Nothing they threatened me with could stop me from screaming at them until I lost my voice.

"You're a Black!" My mother had screamed sternly. "You don't need filthy Muggle friends! You're better than that!"

"Then I don't want to be a Black!" I'd yelled back.

After that, they washed my mouth out with soap. I said I was going to run away, and they told me I was being ridiculous. Then I told them that I hated them, and they said that I was becoming too strong-willed for my own good.

I think they were right about that last bit, if nothing else.

In the aftermath of that nasty fight, I really did consider running away. But I was barely eleven, and I doubted that the few relatives I liked – like my Uncle Alphard – would agree to take me in and hide me from my parents. So, for the weeks before I came to school, I reverted to my old pattern with a vengeance. I thought if I was going to be trapped with my parents and their stupid rules and stuffy traditions, I might as well try to make life as miserable for them as they made it for me. I started off by magically blowing up the dining room during dinner – the only time they let me out of my room when I was grounded.

They didn't take it very well.

If I'd thought they were strict before, it was nothing compared to how suffocating they became after that. The threat of beatings was always present, and I had no doubt that they would follow through with it, based on the punishment I'd received after the dining room incident. (My face had been stinging for _days_.)

That didn't stop me from fighting back, though; I just got a little smarter about it. I enchanted their clothing to change colors when they put it on. I nicked Muggle newspaper articles and hid them all around the house. I Confunded my brother to dance around like a ballerina. I "misplaced" one of each pair of my mother's earrings.

My pranks went from all-out infuriating acts of rebellion to mildly annoying incidents they couldn't prove I had done – that way, I could escape punishment most of the time. After all, I'd gotten my Hogwarts letter shortly after the dining room incident, and I wanted to survive long enough to go to school and finally get away from them. But even now that I was free of them until next summer (there was no way I was going home for the winter holidays), part of me was still tentative to outright disobey them. I would probably have to put up with them for at least six more summers, after all.

But when it came to the Sorting, I felt like I couldn't win. Whatever House I was put in, there was bound to be trouble for me.

If I was in Slytherin, my family would be happy, but I was willing to bet I'd be just as miserable hanging out with a bunch of snotty, purist Slytherins as I'd been at home. And if my situation with my parents was any indication of how I tended to vent my frustrations, I'd probably be expelled before I'd even finished my first year.

If I was in Gryffindor (I'd ruled out Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw at this point), I'd probably be happier in the long run, but I anticipated intense backlash from my family. My parents would probably consider it the last straw in my rebellious streak, and I hated to think about what they might do in retaliation. Plus, I had a few older cousins at Hogwarts who would likely do their best to make my life here miserable before they graduated. My only hope was that everyone in my family would simply refuse to associate with me – but that thought still made me uneasy, for the same reason that I hadn't run away already. However depressing and horrid they were, my family was all that I knew. If my parents kicked me out, and nobody else in the family would take me, where was I supposed to go?

"Oi, Starlight! Anyone home?"

I jolted, tearing my eyes away from the window. The train was no longer moving. James was standing and holding his trunk. He was frowning at me, his face pinched with concern behind his black-rimmed glasses. Barricaded in the window seat next to me, Remus mirrored the expression.

"You okay, mate? We said your name like three times."

My stomach flipped with anxiety, but I put on an irritated scowl as I got up and dragged my trunk out from under the table. "James Potter, if you ever call me 'Starlight' again, I will fill all your left socks with pudding."

As far as red herrings go, it did the trick. Remus snickered, and James gave me a bemused look. "Only the left ones?"

"That way you think you're safe when you start putting on the right ones."

His brown-specked eyes gleamed with amusement as he pulled his trunk to the door. "That's brilliant. I'd love to see you try it."

Smirking faintly, I followed him toward the compartment door with Remus close behind. My heart started hammering as I stepped onto the stone platform at the edge of a dense forest, right into a moving crowd of older students. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting reddish-gold light across the wispy clouds. The beautiful sight eased my nerves a little. I wondered if the colors were a good sign.

"Firs' years, firs' years, over here!"

I navigated through the crowd with James at the lead, moving toward the speaker: a man with tangled brown hair and a bulging moleskin coat, standing at the edge of the platform. He was at least four feet taller than me, and about three feet wider. His hands were the size of stop signs.

"He must be part giant," James whispered in my ear.

"Ask him."

"You do it."

"Why me? You're the one who said—"

"Hey, yer firs' years, aren't ya? Ya got cotton in yer ears?"

Both of us jumped and looked up at the colossal man. "Sorry, sir. We were just saying that it's really cool how tall you are," James paraphrased, wearing his best brownnosing grin. I held back a smirk. _Clever git._

The giant man's beard twitched. I could've sworn he was smiling under all that hair. "Alright, well, put yer stuff over there," he repeated, pointing a thick finger at a disorderly pile of luggage which presumably belonged to the rest of the fifty-or-so first years, who were all huddled nearby. I furrowed my eyebrows, and he assured, "Go on, don't look so nervous. It'll be transported ter the castle by magic."

"What's your name?" I asked as I dropped my trunk next to the others.

His beetle eyes seemed bemused. "Rubeus Hagrid. Everyone calls me Hagrid."

"I'm James Potter," James inserted.

"And I'm Sirius Black," I tacked on, not wanting to be outdone.

Now I was positive Hagrid was smiling, judging by the crinkle of his eyes. "Nice ter meet ya, boys. And you are?"

Behind us, Remus jumped a little. For some reason, his voice was noticeably subdued when he answered, "Remus Lupin."

"So it's James, Sirius, and Remus. You three are goin' ter cross together, then?"

"Yep," James replied happily, before I could begin to wonder what he'd just signed us up for.

"It's three to a boat," Hagrid told us, as if that cleared up everything. James met our blank stares with an excited grin, and Hagrid chuckled. Then he raised his voice again: "Alright, firs' years, follow me!"

He started down a rocky trail lined with blue torches, away from the many horseless carriages that the older students were climbing into. There was a general air of nervousness and reverence as all the first years fell in line behind Hagrid. Everyone lowered their voices.

"He's huge," Remus whispered to me in awe.

"You've just noticed?"

He blushed, apparently torn between giving me a glare or a sheepish smile. He settled for glancing over his shoulder instead – and he gasped. "It vanished!"

Alarmed, I whirled around. "What?" Understanding dawned on me. "Our stuff..."

"Up to the castle," James chimed in with that dorky grin still plastered onto his face.

I pulled an exasperated grimace. "What are you, the Hogwarts Encyclopedia?"

He looked miffed. "I am not! My dad just tells a lot of stories."

"You mean you badgered him until he gave you every detail."

I'd caught him. He pursed his lips for a second before twisting them into a mocking smirk. "Whatever, Starlight."

"I swear, Potter, I'll do it," I threatened. "Just think. Pudding between your toes."

"Not my right ones."

In the process of giving James a particularly petulant look, I nearly twisted my ankle on the uneven slope of wet pebbles that Hagrid was now leading us down. (Curse these stupid first year traditions.) It would've been a spectacular fall if it weren't for the presence of two steadying hands: Remus on my left and James on my right. As I regained my footing and my friends released my arms, I put on a stubborn scowl. I fully expected them to start cracking up – it was probably what I would've done. To my surprise, neither of them did. James's smile wavered, and Remus knitted his eyebrows in concern.

"Are you okay? That looked like it hurt."

"I'm fine," I snapped, annoyed by my throbbing (but still functioning) ankle. Then I softened my tone and added, "Thanks."

James offered me an impish smile and some helpful advice: "Careful. It's slippery."

I pouted at him, clenching my jaw to cover up my amusement. "Silly me. I must have forgotten to consult my encyclopedia."

He tried for an annoyed look, but his lips twitched traitorously. He turned away to hide his smile.

Meanwhile, Remus was shaking his head. "I'm starting to think you two will never let each other off easy," he murmured. His expression was a mixture of weariness and amusement.

"Nope," James assured, giving me a lopsided grin.

Smiling as I looked at the two of them, I couldn't help but think, _I could get used to this_. Suddenly, a scorching fire roared to life in my chest, and I forgot to keep my voice down. "I'm going to be in Gryffindor," I stated firmly. A few of the other kids turned around, and Snivellus glowered at me, but I was too caught up in my thoughts to care.

James's lowered voice was thick with irony. "I thought we established this already."

"I mean it. I couldn't stand it if I was in Slytherin," I insisted quieter.

"I think you'll be wherever you're meant to be, Sirius," Remus reasoned.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if that was supposed to be an insult. Then I understood the wisdom behind the phrase. If I really wanted to be in Gryffindor, then maybe I would be. Maybe all I needed to do was want it bad enough. The fire in my chest burned even hotter, and I marveled at Remus. "You sure you're not a Ravenclaw?"

He shrugged like it didn't matter, but I thought I saw him wince a little. "I guess we'll see."

We continued in silence, picking up on the cue from the rest of the first years. After a few more minutes of navigating the treacherous pebbles in the semi-darkness (again with the bloody unsafe traditions), Hagrid stopped in front of a smooth surface that reflected the darkening gray sky. About twenty small wooden boats were waiting at the edge of the glassy lake, apparently secured there by magic.

"Here we are," Hagrid announced. "Hurry in. No more'n three to a boat."

The three of us climbed into one – me at the front, and Remus and James at the back. Even though it wasn't touching the shore, the wooden vessel hardly moved under our weight. Fascinated, I grabbed the sides and rocked back and forth as hard as I could. James grinned and Remus tensed, but the boat barely even wobbled. "Aw, that's no fun," I whined. Then I noticed Hagrid watching me with obvious amusement from his own slightly larger boat. I smiled shamelessly at him and was rewarded with a rumbling chuckle.

"I think Hagrid likes us," James whispered. "He lives on the grounds, you know. I hear he keeps a lot of cool creatures in the forest. Maybe he'd give us a tour?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me, and I felt some of his mischievous energy buzz through me. Then I noticed Remus stifling a snicker, and I gave him a questioning look. _Encyclopedia_, he mouthed. I let out a laugh of my own.

Before James could catch on, the boats started moving, which effectively distracted all of us. The little rigs slid smoothly across the water like they were being pulled by invisible strings, guiding us away from the trees and toward the opposite side of the lake. "Can we touch it?" I wondered aloud after a moment, watching the glassy surface.

"You might wake the Giant Squid," James said.

Remus paled. "You're joking, right?"

"Touch it and find out."

Never one to refuse a good dare, I let my fingertips drift in the water for a few seconds, creating a second smooth trail of ripples alongside our boat. The lake was surprisingly chilly, but nothing unusual disturbed the vast surface. I mimicked James's smug smirk. "Where's your Giant Squid now?"

"Oh, he'll be here."

I frowned uncertainly, and Remus scanned the surface with wide eyes. "You'd better be joking," he muttered uneasily.

"Of course I'm joking," James assured. "It takes more than that to get his attention."

Remus stared at him like he wasn't sure what to believe, and I laughed at the look on his face. Then something past my head made my friends' jaws drop. I turned around and gaped. As our boat came around a rocky bend, the entirety of Hogwarts was put on display for us. The magnificent stone castle, perched on a hill near the lake, seemed to materialize out of nowhere, complete with walls and turrets and towers and thousands of gleaming windows. The image reflected brilliantly off the water's surface, turning it gold in contrast to the dark sky.

Okay, maybe the stupid traditions were kind of worth it.

Seeing Hogwarts in all its glory, I couldn't suppress a grin. But a wave of dread abruptly swallowed the happy feeling, and I gripped the side of the boat to keep myself from teetering into lake. I tried to remember the flame of determination that had warmed me a few minutes ago, but under the shadow of the beautiful castle, I felt cold and scared and...so damn _small_. The last time I'd felt this pathetic was when my father had threatened to hex me. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

After that, the whole lot of us stayed quiet for the remainder of the boat ride and the entire trek up to the castle. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who had a lot on my mind, but I had no comfort to spare for any of my peers.

Countless marble stairs and pathways later, we reached the main doors of the castle. Inside the entry hall, a stern-looking woman with a tight bun was waiting for us. She looked to be in her forties, with thin lips, arched eyebrows, and elegant green robes. Hagrid gave her a friendly smile and disappeared up a set of marble stairs, leaving us alone with the intimidating woman. Like a hawk trying to calculate which mouse would be the juiciest, her eyes swept carefully over the new students. Somewhere in the distance, a set of huge doors closed with an echoing _boom_.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the woman announced at last. Her voice was exactly like I'd expected it to be: stiff and professional. "I am Professor McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration here, and I am also the Head of Gryffindor House. Before we begin, I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that in this school, troublemakers will _not_ be tolerated. Your responsibility as a student is to listen to the instructions of your teachers and follow the rules laid down for the safety and well-being of you and others. Have I made myself clear?" She eyed the group as if waiting for someone to disagree. Ordinarily, I might have spoken up, but I currently felt so sick that I doubted I could come up with a coherent sentence, much less a witty remark.

"Good. Now, you are about to be Sorted into your Hogwarts Houses. Your House will determine your sleeping arrangements, your classmates, and where you'll sit at Quidditch games. More importantly, the members of your House will be your family during your time at Hogwarts. No family is perfect, but its members must support each other and work together. It is very likely that you'll form your closest friendships with those in your House. Not to say that members of other Houses don't get along..."

James shot a scowl at Severus. The greasy-haired boy was standing at the far end of the room, avidly returning his look of disdain. Then he caught me watching and glared at me too.

Pretending I hadn't noticed, I gritted my teeth and turned away. Looking at him caused me physical pain. Just the thought of being in the same House as that future Death Eater made my stomach twist and my chest ache. _Would James and Remus even talk to me? What if I end up like that git?_

"Keep in mind that your behavior will also affect your House," McGonagall was saying. "If you are participating in class and following instructions, teachers will typically award House points for your efforts. Bad behavior and rule-breaking of any kind causes the loss of said points. The House with the most points at the end of the year is awarded the great honor of winning House Cup."

"The Hat will tell you everything you need to know about the individual Houses," she finished cryptically. "Now, I will take you to the Great Hall to be Sorted. If you'd quietly follow me..."

Fidgety and anxious, the crowd of first years trudged up a flight of impressive marble stairs, where McGonagall stopped in front of a set of tall, polished bronze doors. "Wait here. I'll be back shortly," she said. As she slipped through the giant doors, I had a glimpse of the Great Hall, with its four huge tables full of gossiping students. Then she closed the doors behind her, and a wave of nervous chatter commenced.

Trying to ignore James blabbing to Remus about how the Sorting worked, I took a few deep breaths. The population of the entire school was beyond those doors – including Narcissa and Andromeda, my first cousins. Drom was alright in my books, and she was a seventh-year anyway. And I was immensely grateful that their eldest sister, Bellatrix, had already graduated; she was a _nightmare_. But if I ended up in Gryffindor – _no_, when_ you end up in Gryffindor_, I told myself – Narcissa, a fifth-year, would stir up trouble for sure. She was annoyingly good at that. And even if she didn't, I had a few other distant relatives here who might find it amusing to write to my mother if and when I stepped out of line. For what must have been the hundredth time, I cursed my selective genetics. Every damn pure-blood at this school could've been my third cousin once removed, for all I knew.

McGonagall returned much too soon. Opening the bronze doors wide, she led the timid crowd of first years into the middle of the castle's spacious and five-story-tall dining hall, which was lit by thousands of floating candles for the occasion. Four long mahogany tables, two on each side of the hall, were decorated with banners and runners in the colors of the Houses: red and gold for Gryffindor, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw, yellow and black for Hufflepuff, and green and silver for Slytherin. At each table sat about a hundred students, all scanning over the first years curiously. At the opposite end of the entrance to the Great Hall was the High Table, where each of the professors had their own chairs. In the center of the table, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, looked genuinely delighted by the sight of us. On the vaulted ceiling gleamed a beautiful sky full of stars. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn't an intricate work of art – the roof was see-through. A shooting star traced a thin white trail across my eyelids before fading into the background. Silently, childishly, I made a wish.

A solemn clunk echoed through the hall as McGonagall placed a plain wooden stool in the middle of the room. Then she lowered a beaten-up wizard hat onto it and took a step back. For a few seconds, every pair of eyes in the Hall was on that boring old hat, waiting. I frowned, not really getting it. Then, to my surprise, the hat began to twitch.

A rip like a mouth abruptly appeared near the brim, and the old Hat broke into song:

_About a thousand years ago  
On this empty, grassy hill  
Four great sorcerers met to make  
A way to pass down their skills.  
They chose to build a magic school;  
That's how Hogwarts came to be.  
But each insisted on those kids  
With specific qualities.  
Godric Gryffindor valued those  
Whose hearts were daring and brave,  
The ones who battled valiantly  
And fought for friends to save.  
Rowena Ravenclaw wanted  
Kids who shared her cleverness,  
Brilliant minds which she decreed  
With great wisdom to be blest.  
Helga Hufflepuff, kind and fair,  
Chose those who had like traits.  
Her pupils were most diligent  
And from truth did rarely stray.  
Strong, smart Salazar Slytherin  
Was quite selective indeed.  
He only took those crafty ones  
Whom he believed would succeed.  
Thus the four fabulous founders,  
With a bond in friendship true,  
Split the school into these Houses,  
Each one for a different crew.  
So come, sit down, give me a try!  
Let me look inside your brain.  
I'll put you where it suits you best  
With what founders did ingrain._

When the song was finished, the Great Hall erupted in applause. My heart started pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape, and my palms felt sweaty and cold. Did Godric Gryffindor expect me to be "daring and brave" right now?

Once everyone fell silent, McGonagall summoned a scroll from thin air. "First years," she instructed, "Come up when your name is called, sit down on the stool, and put on the Sorting Hat. Once you are assigned to your new House, promptly take a seat at the corresponding table." Without further ado, she began reading off the scroll:

"Addams, William."

My stomach gave a nasty jolt when I realized we would be called in alphabetical order by last name_. At least it'll be over quick. _A small, mousy-haired boy – William Addams, I supposed – was climbing onto the stool. He put the Sorting Hat on his head, and the brim fell over his eyes. After a few seconds, the Hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Applause erupted at the yellow-and-black table as the Addams boy stood up, placed the Hat back on the stool, and joined his fellow Hufflepuffs.

After him, a black-haired girl named Erika Allan sat on the stool for a solid minute before the Hat finally called, "SLYTHERIN!"

That went on for three more _A_ names – one more Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws, each taking anywhere between five seconds and three minutes to be Sorted. I was just thinking, _We must be due for a Gryffindor soon_, when McGonagall called:

"Black, Sirius."

I flinched as my stomach somersaulted. My legs started moving automatically, carrying my stiff body toward that dreaded Hat. I couldn't look anywhere else – not at James and Remus, and especially not at that stupid green-and-silver table, where several people had started whispering when my name was called. Anxiety crashed over me in waves. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. _Come on. You're a Gryffindor! Be brave_, I scolded myself, but that was hardly helpful, considering I hadn't been Sorted yet. Plus, if the knots in my stomach were any indication of my bravery, I was doomed. Then I remembered the reassurances of my friends:

"_You'll be wherever you're meant to be." _

"_You're nothing like him."_

Warm resolve wrapped around my frantic heart. At that moment, I swore to myself that would prove them right. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the Sorting Hat, sat down, and lowered it onto my head. Like the other kids, the leather brim came to rest on the bridge of my nose, so all I could see was darkness. "Interesting," said a voice in my ear. "A sharp mind...lots of confidence...a lust for adventure...and my, what stubbornness! You've got potential, that's for sure. But what's all this 'not Slytherin' business? You would do very well in Slyth—"

_No!_ I shouted mentally, balling my hands into fists. _I'll never be a dirty Slytherin!_

"You're so sure?" The Hat questioned. Its disembodied voice sounded amused, as if this was all just a fun game to it. "You've got a lot of ambition, boy. I'm certain you'd be successful regardless of your House. Why fight so avidly against your birthright?"

Several scenes slid past my mind's eye: the looks of distrust from my recently-Obliviated Muggle friends, my mother magically filling my throat with soap after I'd cursed our family name, and my father striking out at me in anger after I'd blown up the dining room. I remembered Regulus frowning at me with a face that looked annoyingly like my own. "You're doing this to yourself, you know," he'd told me in a half-scolding, half-pleading tone. "If you'd just listen to them..."

"And let them brainwash me?" I'd answered sharply. "No thanks, Reg. I'd rather be grounded for life than be like them."

I tried to channel that same passion. _It doesn't matter what House you put me in, _I told the hat fervently. _I'll never be like them._

The Hat seemed surprised and impressed. "I see. In that case, I think you're better off in GRYFFINDOR!"

An electric surge of joy rippled through me, and the loud applause that followed indicated that everyone had heard the Hat's last word. Feeling like I might've floated through the starry ceiling, I took off the Hat and walked to the red-and-gold table on jelly legs. My grin was so big, I thought it would have hurt my face if it grew any more. As I took a seat at the Gryffindor table, I spotted James, and I couldn't help but laugh. The applause had nearly died down, but he was still clapping hard and beaming at me, regardless of the stares he was receiving from the other first years. Remus looked thoroughly embarrassed for his sake, but when he saw me watching, he flashed a brilliant smile too.

Somehow, my grin got even bigger.

I gave my friends a double thumbs-up. Then I gestured to the empty seats next to me and mouthed, _For you._ James stopped clapping and returned my thumbs-up, showing nothing but eagerness. Remus, on the other hand, looked very nervous (which I could relate to), but he nodded like he was determined.

Then I felt a prickle on my skin, and I turned to lock eyes with my blond and unbearably pompous cousin, Narcissa Black (Hissy, Sissy, or Prissy, as I interchangeably called her). She had stood from her seat and was giving me a death glare from across the hall. She looked like she was about to throw one of her characteristic tantrums – and she wasn't the only one staring. Many unfamiliar Slytherins were frowning at me skeptically, and many more were watching Narcissa like they were anticipating a good show.

My grin twisted into a grimace, and I swallowed, wishing I could melt into my seat. This was a show I did _not_ want to see.

Then I felt a surge of anger. I was _happy_, dammit! I _wanted_ this. I wasn't going to let her or anyone else ruin this for me. Before I could give her a very rude gesture, I spotted her older sister Andromeda walking toward her, with her long brown hair swishing behind her and a green-and-silver prefect badge glimmering on her chest. I felt a second wave of dread, thinking that my older cousin was about to join the protest.

Instead, something wonderful happened. Andromeda put her hand on Narcissa's shoulder and gave her a stern look. Her message was clear: _It's not worth it._ _Let it go_. Clearly disgruntled, Narcissa sat down again, and Andromeda caught my eye. As I wondered how to convey my gratefulness without being too obvious, she gave me the briefest of smiles. It almost seemed like she was _proud_ of me. Then she returned to her seat like nothing had happened.

When I came out of my shock, my huge grin was back. I knew I'd liked Drom for a reason. Begrudgingly, I had to admit that maybe Slytherins weren't all bad.

The ceremony continued much more slowly after that, for me at least. Five more kids were Sorted before I saw someone that I recognized: the red-haired girl from the train, who was apparently named Lily Evans. She had a kind face and expressive eyes, and she seemed utterly terrified as she sat down and put the Hat over her head. I couldn't help but agree with James: she didn't look like a Slytherin at all.

I had barely finished that thought when the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Lily Evans took off the Hat and set off eagerly for the red-and-gold table – but not without directing a sad smile at Snivellus, who looked devastated. When she reached the Gryffindor table, she sat right next to me.

"Congrats," I told her, putting on my best charming smile in an attempt to wipe the slate clean. For a split second, she turned and beamed at me, and I could see why James had taken an interest in her. With that big smile, those striking green eyes, and that fiery red hair, she was quite stunning. Then she seemed to remember me from the train, and her expression soured. "Thanks," she muttered, hastily turning her attention to the rest of the first years.

Shrugging it off, I allowed my mind to wander before McGonagall started calling the L's. To pass the time, I counted how long the Hat sat on each person's head.

Seventeen seconds. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Five seconds. "SLYTHERIN!"

Two minutes and eleven seconds. "RAVENCLAW!"

Thirty seconds. "GRYFFINDOR!" (I clapped as a small blond girl – Alice something – sat down next to Lily.)

Nearly twenty names (and at least twenty minutes) later, it finally came to Remus. My poor friend had gone as white as a ghost, but his face was set as he pulled the Hat over his head. Crossing my fingers, I counted...

Ten seconds. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Relieved, I pumped a fist into the air and cheered as Remus took off the Hat and headed toward me. I'd expected him to be embarrassed by my enthusiasm, but his eyes were full of nothing but joy. He looked the happiest I'd ever seen him when he sat down next to me.

I clapped him on the back proudly. "Knew you could do it, mate! Only one more, now."

"He'll make it," he assured, turning to look at James.

Following his gaze, I saw the black-haired boy in question, staring at the two of us with a mix of pride and longing. We both smiled at him, and he smiled back, all confidence and certainty.

"Definitely," I agreed. Then I took note of the number of first years sitting around me – significantly fewer than those at the other tables. "And good thing, too, we seem to be running short on bravery this year..."

As the Hat fell over the eyes of Mary MacDonald, a girl with shoulder length brown hair and a round face, I murmured to Remus, "I think you were right, by the way. About the way this works." He raised an eyebrow at me questioningly – and the two of us paused to applaud again as the Hat called, "GRYFFINDOR!" Mary MacDonald took the seat across from Lily, and I continued, "I think the Hat puts you in whatever House you really want to be in."

Remus's smile became a little guilty, but his eyes were thoughtful. "You know, that wasn't really what I meant. But I think you're onto something."

"McKinnon, Marlene."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I jumped; that one had taken all of two seconds. "That's three in a row, now." Remus acknowledged as we both clapped again.

"Alright. Maybe we're not so short in bravery after all," I admitted, and Marlene, a girl with long auburn hair and pretty brown eyes, sat down across from me. "Nice one," I congratulated her, and I thought she might have blushed a little.

"Family tradition," she said in an offhanded tone, still grinning.

"Mine too," I replied cheekily. _Starting with me._

"Pettigrew, Peter."

"We've skipped to the P's already?" Remus marveled.

I groaned as a trembling, chubby boy with beady eyes sat down on the stool. "There goes our streak," I muttered.

For an agonizing five minutes and thirteen seconds, everyone waited. By the four-minute mark, we were all seriously wondering if something was wrong. I pictured the pudgy boy in a mental shouting match with the Hat, and I fought back a snicker. Finally, the Hat's decisive yell rang out through the quiet Hall, making everyone flinch.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Astonished, I clapped as an immensely relieved Peter Pettigrew took a seat next to Remus. "Congratulations," Remus told him, and the poor sap looked like he might cry tears of joy. I frowned. Peter really didn't seem like the brave sort to me, but I supposed if he wanted it enough...

I was definitely onto something there.

"Potter, James."

I immediately turned my attention to James, who was ogling Peter so intently that he jumped when his name was called. Recovering his composure, he strode forward with a mask of confidence, but I knew he must have been freaking out on the inside. As he sat down on the stool, I crossed my fingers again, but there was no need. The Hat had barely touched his untidy black hair before declaring loudly:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The older Gryffindors were ecstatic with the five-person streak, so I cheered even louder, determined to be heard over the din. Remus and I both applauded eagerly as James hopped up from the chair and strolled victoriously to the Gryffindor table – _our _table. I felt breathlessly happy.

"Glad you could make it," I told James coolly as he sat down across from Remus.

"You too," he responded, not even trying to wipe the elated grin off his face.

The last batch of names went by much faster than the rest, since only two of them were Sorted into Gryffindor (a pair of twin girls whose names I couldn't remember). Predictably, Snivellus – Severus Snape – was made a Slytherin, at which point James and I shared an annoyed groan and Lily crossed her arms and glared at us.

Once the Sorting was finished, a very short professor with wild snow-white hair took the Hat and stool and levitated them away. Then Professor Dumbledore stood up from his chair at the High Table.

"Welcome, everyone, to another spectacular year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" He declared cheerfully, his eyes twinkling and his arms spread wide. "I have a few announcements – mainly for the first years, but the older students could do with a refresher as well. As always, no magic is to be used in the corridors – which will be patrolled by our loyal caretaker, Mr. Filch. The forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students, as it houses a variety of dangerous creatures that would love to make a meal out of wandering children, regardless of age." His bright eyes combed over the crowd for a moment, as if making sure that this point had sufficient emphasis. I caught James's eye, and I saw my own mischievous smile mirrored back at me.

"Quidditch tryouts will take place in two weeks for students in their third year or older," Dumbledore continued. "Those who are interested should contact the flying teacher, Madame Hooch, who has asked me to remind the first years that it is forbidden to have their own broomstick at school."

James seemed to be having a hard time containing his excitement. "I'm gonna be the next Seeker," he declared for everyone nearby to hear. "Just wait! Two years from now, I'll try out. They'll have to let me on the team."

"Lastly," Dumbledore went on in the same cheery tone, "I'm sure you'll all be intrigued to find that the school has recently acquired a rare Whomping Willow tree. It is located near the lake in the southernmost region of the grounds. I strongly advise all of you not to go near it, given that it brutally attacks anything in the range of its branches."

I felt my eyebrows raise on their own volition. "A tree that attacks people? Why would they put something like that in the school grounds?" I looked to James for an answer, but he seemed just as puzzled as I was.

"Does it really matter? I mean, how much damage can one tree do?" Marlene McKinnon asked unsurely. "A few scrapes and bruises maybe, but it can't be as dangerous as he makes it sound."

"Oh, it's dangerous," Remus inserted with an air of grave certainty. James and I stared at him, along with everyone else who had heard him. Looking a bit surprised by the all attention, he went on hastily, "I've read about them, I mean. They're ruthless. The one at Hogwarts is supposed to be almost forty feet tall and still growing."

"Who's the encyclopedia now?" James asked, and Remus blushed.

Any more teasing that might have ensued was cut short as Dumbledore finished in his usual mirthful tone, "Now that we've gotten the drudgery out of the way – eat up!"

All of a sudden, the empty plates in front of us were filled with every kind of delicious food imaginable. I didn't even know where to start. (My parents had never starved me, but our house-elf, Kreacher, usually did the cooking, and he practically worshipped my parents – and since I was the troublesome child, he resented me in equal proportion. I had a feeling he'd been slowly trying to poison me by feeding me the worst food he could make.)

Once I'd eaten my fill of roast beef, pork chops, baked potatoes, stuffed zucchini, and the most delicious peas I'd ever had, the remaining food disappeared from the golden plates, leaving them spotless. Then the desserts appeared: ice cream, pies, doughnuts, cakes, fruit, pastries, pudding, and anything else anyone could ever want. I was already full to bursting, but I couldn't resist trying a piece of apple pie that had appeared right in front of me. The first bite was sweet and delicious, with just the right amount of apple and cinnamon, and the flaky crust melted in my mouth. I put down my fork for dramatic effect (I had no intention of leaving that pie unfinished) and said reverently, "I think I've died and gone to heaven."

Grinning, James passed me a chocolate tart which he'd just taken a piece of. "Want to die again?"

"You're actually going to kill me," I complained, but I took the dish anyway.

Once everyone was leaning back in their seats in giddy food-comas, unable to eat another bite, the desserts were cleared away and Dumbledore stood again. "I believe that brings an end to our feast – and a beginning to another wonderful year at Hogwarts! You are now free to go to your dormitories. First years, kindly follow your House's prefects. I wish you all happy dreams of a new year!"

There was a very boisterous applause, and then our group of nine new Gryffindors – four boys and five girls – was led out of the Hall. Seven flights of stairs and several winding corridors later, we reached a life-sized portrait of a very large woman in a pink silk dress, who greeted us with a bright smile and said, "Welcome to your home away from home! You may call me the Fat Lady. Everyone does."

I tried to stifle a snort. Next to me, James was pressing his lips together with a vengeance. "Well, that's a bit crude," Remus whispered, frowning, and the two of us dissolved into silent giggles.

"Password?" The Fat Lady asked.

"Gillyweed," the prefect told her, and her painting swung outwards, revealing a neatly carved hole in the wall. One by one, we climbed through the hole into a cozy, spacious common area with a crackling fireplace, decorated tastefully in warm neutrals with red and gold touches.

Thoroughly exhausted, all the first years headed straight for their dormitories: the girls took the staircase on the left, and boys went up on the right. My legs were already like lead before I began the trek all the way to the top, past all the older kids' dormitories. "So many stairs," James groaned as we climbed, taking the words right out of my mouth. "First, from the lake to the castle. Then from the Hall to the Common Room. Now this? I should've just been in Slytherin. I bet their dormitory isn't in the towers."

"It's in the dungeons," I confirmed. "And if this is the trade-off for not sharing a bedroom with Snivellus for seven years, I'll take it."

James grimaced. "Good point."

"Yeah," Peter Pettigrew wheezed from the back of the group. "Just think...about...how nice...our calves...will look...by seventh...year."

Finally, we reached a semi-circular room with four curtained beds and two large windows looking out over the grounds. Our luggage was already waiting for us, stacked neatly in the middle of the carpeted floor. Zombie-like, I hefted my trunk off the top of the pile, dropped it in front of the closest bed, and face-planted onto the comfy sheets before remembering that I was still in my robes. With a tired groan, I crawled to the side of my bed and dug my pajamas out of my trunk.

By the time I found them, the other boy, Peter, had already changed and was curled up under the covers of the bed between mine and James's. Within seconds, he was snoring. After I'd changed, I threw my school clothes on the floor and pulled the covers up to my chin, blissfully content. I would've passed out as fast as Peter if it wasn't for James's concerned voice:

"That's odd. Iris's cage is empty."

"She's probably gone off to the Owlery with the others," Remus said softly.

"Oh, right. I forgot Hogwarts had an Owlery." He yawned. "Wonder if my parents will send me anything..."

An unpleasant jolt in my stomach pulled me out of my stupor as thoughts of my own parents encroached again. For a few seconds, I felt numb with dread, wondering how they would react to my new House. Then I pictured the expression of horror on my mother's face...and I suddenly started smiling into my pillow. The cold fear in my gut was washed away by a pleasant warmth, like I'd just downed a cup of hot chocolate. Thinking about my new mates in the room with me, the feeling lingered. This was worth making my parents angry, more than anything else I'd ever done.

"They'll get over it," I murmured to myself.

"What?" James's voice was bleary.

"What?" I echoed.

"You said 'they'll get over it'."

I silently cursed his good hearing. "Yeah. Your parents will get over you being gone," I improvised.

"Whatever," he muttered halfheartedly, apparently too tired to come up with a comeback.

That was good for his sake, seeing as I had much easier access to his socks now. I wondered how difficult it would be to nick some pudding from breakfast tomorrow. Smiling even wider at that thought, I drifted off into the best sleep of my life.


	4. All in Good Fun

_All in Good Fun_

_Peter_

I woke up the next morning to the curtains around my bed being thrown open. Before I could do much more than squint at the light streaming in, I heard Sirius practically singing: "First day of class! Move it or lose it, mates! Last one to breakfast is a soggy owl pellet!"

Still groggy but too alert to fall back asleep, I sat up and noticed that my other roommates seemed to have received the same wake up call. Remus was watching in bewildered amusement as Sirius bounced around the room, putting on his school robes in a rush. James didn't look nearly as amused. He threw a pillow at his head with wicked aim, but Sirius batted it away, completely unfazed.

"Aw, come on, Jamie, aren't you excited?"

"We could've slept in for twenty more minutes," James complained, glaring at his watch. "And it's _James_," he corrected after a two-second delay. "Jamie is a girl's name."

"Jamie it is, then."

James glowered at him. "Fine, Siri."

Sirius winced a little. Then his grin returned in full force. "Alright, truce. No more nicknames."

James didn't look convinced. With a very dramatic sigh (which did nothing to dampen Sirius's good mood), he got out of bed and began to rifle through his trunk for his clothes. As Remus and I followed suit, I couldn't help but smile. Sure, Sirius was being obnoxious, but I was kind of glad he'd included me in his antics.

Last night at the feast, I'd noticed that my other three roommates seemed more relaxed around each other, like they'd already met. On top of that, I could tell that they were the popular type just by looking at them. Well, Remus not so much. He seemed a bit too shy and much too nice for all that. But James and Sirius had that vibe of unwavering confidence that I found impossible to reproduce. I was starting to worry that they wouldn't bother with me, seeing as I'd never been the popular type. (In fact, I was usually on the opposite end of the spectrum.) _If getting woken up rudely is what it takes for them to acknowledge me, _I thought,_ I suppose that's alright for now._

We all got ready for the day, with Sirius driving us on like the world's happiest drill sergeant – until James figured out how to cast a Silencing Charm on him, which the rest of us found hilarious. Sirius had been the opposite of amused, but James's lack of experience was in his favor. The charm wore off after thirty seconds, and he picked up right where he'd left off, only slightly subdued.

At breakfast, which turned out to be equally as delicious as last night's feast, the prefects passed out our new schedules. "We're starting with Defense Against the Dark Arts today," Remus announced next to me, and James grinned from across the table.

"Brilliant! I wonder who our professor is. I hope it's an ex-Auror. Maybe they'll know my dad..."

Suddenly, a hundred owls soared in through the open windows, obscuring the view of the blue-sky ceiling as they showered students with newspapers, letters, and brown packages. Remus and I gasped, but James just grinned and watched, probably searching for his own owl.

To my surprise, each of us received something – and mine landed in my goblet. I hastily pulled the envelope out of my orange juice and dried it on my napkin, cursing the inaccuracy of owl post. Thankfully, no one noticed. Next to me, Remus was smiling faintly, already reading a letter of his own. (His eyes made their way down the page so quickly, I wondered how he could possibly process all that.) James was busy trying to undo the ribbon of a small square package. And Sirius was slowly opening his own crisp letter, scowling like he expected it to be full of dung beetles. His buoyant mood seemed to have finally sunk.

I tore open my soggy envelope and smiled when I saw my mother's handwriting. Before I'd gotten halfway through the first paragraph, James exclaimed, "Yes! Fudge! I knew it!" He took a square and passed the box around to the rest of us, explaining, "Mum always makes fudge for special occasions. It's her thing."

Gratefully, Remus and I both accepted a piece, but when James held out the box to Sirius, he looked at it with a strange grimace and said, "Ah, no thanks. I'm not really a fudge person."

James just shrugged and took a bite of his own chocolatey square. "Suit yourself. More for me, then." He picked up the note attached to the box and started to read.

Sirius turned back to his own letter, and I would've done the same had I not noticed the crease between his brows and the stiffness of his shoulders. Curious, I watched his dark eyes scan the page, and I tried to interpret his expression. For once, it wasn't hard – but what I saw had me questioning my ability to read people. For all his confidence and gusto this morning, Sirius Black looked _scared_. Of a letter.

"You okay?"

There was a flash of something like panic in his eyes. Then he scowled, and I immediately regretted speaking up. "Why wouldn't I be? It's just a stupid letter," he retorted, glaring at me like he was daring me to say something else.

This time, I kept my mouth shut – but by now, the other two had noticed his odd behavior and were frowning at him. It seemed like he was going to snap at them too, but James inferred, "Your parents are giving you a hard time?"

His annoyed scowl melted into a resigned grimace. "Mum's not too happy about my sleeping arrangements," he admitted. Then he straightened in his chair and gave us what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. "It's fine, though. She's mad now, but it won't last. It never does."

Then, after frowning at the letter for another moment, he stuffed it back into its envelope and held it up to one of the candles decorating the long table. Stunned, we all watched as the corner of the envelope smoldered for a few seconds and then caught fire. A few of the other students started to stare, but that didn't faze Sirius. He just watched with a sort of cruel satisfaction as the corner of the envelope slowly turned black and crumpled under the flame. The twisted smirk on his face and the spiteful light in his eyes made me shiver. More clearly now than ever, I could see his resemblance to his Slytherin family.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Remus interjected, his green eyes wide and concerned. Next to Sirius, James was frowning silently.

Sirius blinked, and his smirk faded into a frown. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you're at breakfast, and everyone is watching?"

He seemed vaguely annoyed. Then he sighed and doused flaming corner in my goblet.

"Hey!"

"Oh, calm down. Your letter was in it, too."

So he _had_ noticed. Brilliant.

After that incident, Sirius was notably quiet for the rest of breakfast, though he did seem to cheer up on the way to our first class. "They'd better teach us how to duel soon," he was saying eagerly as we rounded a corner and passed through what must have been the third tapestry-covered doorway in a row.

"Are you sure it's this way?" Remus asked, glancing over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure we were supposed to turn back there."

"We're going West. It's in the West tower, right?"

Remus frowned at his schedule. "No, that's Astronomy. Defense is on the third floor."

Sirius groaned. "Well, how should I know where I'm going? This castle is a maze! I wish we had a map..."

Wearing a thoughtful frown, James turned to a large portrait of some Grecian women lounging around an oasis. "Hang on. I heard that you can ask the portraits for help if you ever get lost."

I doubted that a painting of some broads in fancy togas was going to help, but James put on a lopsided grin and swaggered up to the image, successfully catching the attention of its occupants. I wasn't sure whether to laugh, roll my eyes, or gag. Sure, James was good-looking – exasperatingly so – but he was also a skinny and disoriented first year, with glasses and a mop of untidy black hair. The fact that he was trying to woo a painting of beautiful half-naked women was incredibly funny to me.

"Hello, lovely ladies," he said smoothly, somehow managing to come off as confident. "Would you happen to know where the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is?"

A few of the women giggled – probably because James looked so ridiculous. Several of them pointed the way we'd come and then straight ahead (indicating that we'd missed a turn, as Remus had suspected). Then the woman held up two fingers and mimed descending a set of stairs. When they were done with their charades, James gave them a brilliant grin and thanked them. Then he turned around to smirk at us.

"Oh, shut up," Sirius muttered. "You too," he added at Remus.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't need to. The 'I told you so' was written all over your face."

The two of them grinned – Remus looked a bit sheepish, but James didn't even try to hide his satisfaction. "Let's just go," Sirius barked impatiently, fighting a smirk.

After following the portrait's directions, we finally reached a long hallway with about twenty identical doors on one wall and a row of tall Gothic windows on the other. We were trying to figure out which door was ours when someone blew a loud, wet raspberry in my ear. I squealed and turned...only to see an empty wall. Sirius snickered, and James tried to hold back a grin.

"Nice one, Peter."

I felt my face heat up. "That wasn't me!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Sure it wasn't."

I heard a quiet giggle from somewhere above my head, and I spun around, staring in confusion at the vaulted ceiling. "Listen! There's something in the hallway," I insisted. Sirius started cracking up, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. "No—come on, guys, I'm serious!"

"You're not Sirius," James corrected childishly, "You're Peter, _he's_ Si—"

Just then, the blue rug spanning the length of the hall was yanked forward, folding into itself like candy ribbon as it surged out from under James's and Sirius's feet. The two black-haired boys yelled and collided with each other as they fell, landing painfully in a heap. After untangling themselves, James scanned the hall with sharp eyes, and Sirius directed an accusatory glare at me. "Are you trying to break our legs?"

"I swear, I'm not doing anything!" I cried desperately, looking to Remus for support.

Remus didn't seem to be paying attention. His gaze was locked on a set of the curtains that were rippling in the breeze – except there _was_ no breeze. Then I noticed it too: a faint flicker of something – _someone_ – floating away from the curtains, bouncing through the air toward us...

"Peeves?" Remus called curiously.

With a soft pop, a strange creature with wild eyes and an unsettling grin materialized in front of us. The miniature floating man was dressed like a court jester, with pointy shoes and a huge frill around his neck. His entire personage was faded gray like a ghost's, but his eyes gleamed with more excitement and mischief than a thousand of the liveliest ghosts could've managed.

I let slip a startled scream. The little man laughed at me and did an excited backflip. "Ickle firsties know about me! How _cute_!" His high-pitched voice was like a screeching violin.

"What the—" Sirius and James staggered to their feet, both gaping at the strange man. Apparently, this was something James's dad hadn't told him about.

"He's a poltergeist," Remus explained. "He can't touch you, but he can move objects and just generally be a bother. There aren't a lot of spells that work on spirits like him. My dad studies them."

Peeves gasped loudly and spun around in midair, so he was looking at us upside-down. "You mean you're Loony Lupin's little imp?"

Remus jumped a little. "Uh..."

The poltergeist cackled maniacally and floated around in circles, jeering, "Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!"

Remus seemed to regain his composure, and his tone took on a sharpness that I hadn't heard before. "We don't want any trouble, Peeves. We're trying to get to class, and we're already late, so if you'd just—"

Without warning, Peeves roared with laughter and flew straight at us. I ducked, but there was no need: Remus had drawn his wand.

"_Waddawasi_!"

The spell sounded like bogus to me, but it did the trick. The curtains that Peeves had just been hiding in suddenly sprung at him, rod and all, and collided with him in midair. Entangled in the violent drapery, Peeves tumbled to the ground a few steps away from us. Cursing profusely, he struggled for a moment before disappearing with a loud crack. The curtains slumped to the floor.

"He's gone?" I checked, looking around nervously.

Remus nodded, putting his wand away. "I think so. Hopefully that will keep him away from us for a while."

James and Sirius were staring at Remus in awe. Then Sirius whistled appreciatively, and James said, "You've gotta teach me that one."

Remus looked embarrassed and pleased by their praise, and I had to admit, I was a little jealous. But before he could respond, another voice made us all jump:

"I would have to agree." Professor Dumbledore was strolling calmly toward us, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Remus froze, losing all the color in his face, and I suddenly realized what he'd done.

"Professor—" James started to say, but Dumbledore held up his hand.

"Ordinarily, I would discourage the use of magic in the corridors, but under certain circumstances I tend to make exceptions." He smiled at Remus. "Twenty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Lupin, for outstanding use of defensive magic." All four of us stared at him in stunned disbelief, until he said cheerily, "Speaking of defensive magic, I assume you are looking for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom? You are still five doors away, I'm afraid." With his wand, he pointed to a door on the right side of the hallway, and the frame glowed briefly. Then he smiled at us and concluded, "Hurry along, now. Professor McCreary doesn't appreciate tardiness. Good day to you, boys." He turned and walked back down the hall, leaving us all glued to the spot in shock – until we realized we'd missed our cue.

"I don't believe it...Dumbledore _likes_ you!" James exclaimed as we ran to the glowing door. Remus seemed too overwhelmed to react.

Professor McCreary, indeed, did not appreciate us showing up fifteen minutes late, but once we explained the situation with Peeves, he reluctantly let it slide. The old and surly Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was _not_ an ex-Auror, to James's disappointment, but he did teach us a few basic jinxes for our first class, which made Sirius happy.

The next few days of class went by without much to speak of. James had discovered his knack for transfiguration by turning a match into a needle on his first go, much to McGonagall's surprise. She'd even _smiled_ at him. Sirius was a natural at Charms, and he'd also showed an aptitude for Astronomy, which James teased him mercilessly about. He received several more letters over the course of the week, too, but he'd decided not to read them at breakfast anymore, which was fine by me; it was better than watching him burn them. Remus picked up on Defense Against the Dark Arts just as quickly as James, who'd already had some basic instruction – from his dad, of course. Plus, Remus had somehow managed to stay awake for the entirety of Professor Binns's History of Magic lecture, and he took _notes_.

And me? Well, I learned that I was mediocre in just about everything. I even nearly cut off my finger in my first Herbology lesson. Thankfully, the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, is excellent at her job, and my finger was perfectly healed in a matter of seconds. But that didn't stop James and Sirius from calling me Green Thumb for the rest of the day. But that was nothing compared to my colossal screw-up in Potions...

Professor Slughorn, the Head of Slytherin house and a portly man with a bushy walrus mustache, had started off our first Potions class by writing a long list of instructions on the chalkboard and setting us loose with tables of unfamiliar tools and ingredients. "This is just a preliminary assessment," he'd assured. "Ungraded, of course. Nothing to worry about. You may ask me questions if you need clarification."

And did we ever. I was at least glad that I wasn't the only one who was struggling to tell the difference between Gurdyroot and Gillyweed, or Doxy eggs and Eel eyes. Thankfully, Slughorn was happy to point out the distinctions between the ingredients. With the process, however, he preferred to let us experiment a bit. More than a few times, I glanced at my friends, watching which tools they used and trying to imitate their technique, often poorly. Next to me, Remus seemed very focused on each task, though he did give some helpful comments whenever I whispered questions to him. Meanwhile, Slughorn meandered around the room, peering into people's cauldrons and nodding like we were meeting his expectations.

When we were halfway through class, Slughorn informed us that our potion should be turning bright orange. I looked uneasily at my own ruddy brown concoction and then at Remus's sunflower yellow brew. He was grimacing at his cauldron too, but then he looked up and smiled at me. "At least we're in the right color spectrum," he murmured, eyeing our neighbors' table. Sirius's potion was a promising reddish-orange, but James was cursing under his breath: his had just turned periwinkle.

Relieved, I looked around the room and saw that he wasn't the only one whose color was blatantly off. However, a few people seemed to have it right. Slughorn smiled encouragingly when he saw Lily Evans's peachy potion, and he actually addressed the class when he noticed Severus Snape's cauldron, which looked like it contained liquified traffic cones.

"Ah, here is a good example! See the consistency of this one, and how the bubbles are nice and large? Excellent brewing, Mr. Snape! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Snape swelled with pride, and James's scowl deepened. Choosing to ignore them, I turned back to the chalkboard and began to slice up my Gillyweed (which was quite difficult considering how slippery it was). Then Sirius leaned over from the table next to me and advised quietly, "Try adding the lavender and stirring ten times counterclockwise." He pointed to some purple flowers on my table which I hadn't even begun to think about yet. I frowned at the instructions on the board, trying to find which step he was on. "Come on, Peter," he snapped impatiently. "Your potion looks like actual dung."

Blushing, I scooped the lavender into my cauldron and started to stir. As I did, the color changed from muddy brown to blood red to tangerine – but it didn't stop there. The orange morphed to a shocking neon green, and the concoction began to fizz and pop. Alarmed, I looked over at Sirius, who was watching with curious excitement.

"I thought you said this would help!"

"I never said that."

I felt a surge of anger. "You tricked me?"

He just smirked as the bright green froth in my cauldron began to rise, not unlike one of my dad's favorite beers. James noticed and started to snicker. Next to me, Remus was watching with wide eyes. "Uh, Peter," he began uneasily, "I don't think that's—"

_Right? Safe? A good sign? All of the above?_

I didn't get to hear the end of his comment, because just then my potion made a very loud and disgusting _POP_, covering me and the table in greenish-white foam and globs of thick neon liquid. Remus had ducked under our table at the last second (props to him for impressive reflexes), but Sirius hadn't gotten off so easily. His black hair was covered with a layer of bubbles, and everything above his waist – everything not sheltered by his own table – was splattered with lime green. He looked like a piece of street art gone very wrong. I might've laughed if I wasn't so mortified; I was sure I looked even worse.

For a second, the entire class just stared at us in stunned silence. Then several people started laughing, including James and even Sirius. Slughorn looked a little weary, but he managed a smile as he took out his wand and vanished the mess. "And that," he announced, "is a wonderful example of why you _don't_ add the lavender before the Gillyweed."

By the end of class, Sirius's and Lily's potions came out fairly well, James's was still a tenacious purple, and Slughorn had awarded ten more points to Slytherin for Severus Snape's final product. But nobody seemed to care about all that, since everyone was talking about my disaster as we left class.

"I still think your potion was the best, Peter," James teased.

"Well, I owe it all to Sirius," I muttered sarcastically.

For someone who had gotten equally doused by green liquid, he looked remarkably smug. "It was nothing, really," he said with a wink.

Remus gawked at him. "_You_ made that happen?"

Sirius stopped trying to hold back his cheeky grin. James burst out laughing, but Remus looked horrified. "Sirius, that was really dangerous! You could've hurt someone! The potion could've burned you! You're lucky there weren't any side effects..."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, lighten up, Rem. It was all in good fun! Besides, I didn't _know_ it would explode. That was more of a happy accident."

"Happy for who?" I questioned irritably.

"All of us! Didn't you see the looks on everyone's faces? Come on, Pete, even _you_ have to admit that it was funny." I pouted at him, and he sighed like he was disappointed. "You two need to learn to laugh a little. Anyway, it's not like it was graded. I'm not _that_ cruel."

I frowned for a moment, pondering his remark. Then I remembered seeing him covered in froth and neon splatter, and I smiled. "I suppose it was kind of funny," I admitted, and Sirius grinned at me.

"Would've been funnier if you'd sent yourself to the hospital wing again, Pettigrew."

We all whirled around to face a thickset Slytherin with a blond bowl cut and dark eyes – Avery, I think his name was. Behind him was a pretty Slytherin girl with dark hair and light eyes whose name I couldn't remember. Before I could come up with a good comeback, Sirius jumped in for me: "Shut it, Slytherin, or _I'll_ send _you_ to the hospital wing."

The blond boy's smirk turned into a scowl, but he barely had a chance to open his mouth before James added savagely, "And it's not like you could do any better. We all saw your pink potion. Were you trying to make Amortentia to slip to your friend here, or are you just that bad?"

Startled, Avery redirected his anger to James. To my delight, his face had turned the color of his potion. Behind him, the girl's pale eyes widened, and she looked absolutely mortified. I tried to stifle a snicker. The fact that James and Sirius had stood up for me made me feel giddy – and I was undeniably impressed by their quick responses. I wondered if I could get them to give me some pointers later.

"She's my cousin, you idiot!" Avery sputtered angrily.

"You're pure-bloods, right?" James checked.

"Yeah. So?"

"Then what does it matter? You're all inbred anyway."

Sirius let out a loud barking laugh, which attracted some attention from the rest of the class. A few people paused to watch.

"Like your family is any better, Potter," the Slytherin boy jeered, still blushing. "And you shouldn't be laughing, Black," he added harshly, and Sirius's grin turned to a scowl. "If you think you can just ignore your family history and play Gryffindor, you're about to be given a rude awakening."

"Why not give it to me yourself, then?" Sirius challenged. "I'll show you how well I _play_."

Fortunately (for the Slytherin boy, at least), the conflict was cut short by a few older students walking past on their way to Potions. One of them, a tall boy with silvery blond hair, was wearing a green-and-silver Prefect badge, and he paused to glare down at us. "What's going on here?" He asked in a silky voice. His pale eyes scanned over us sharply, making my skin prickle. They lingered suspiciously on Sirius. "Well, if it isn't Sirius Black. Am I to assume that you're causing trouble again?"

Sirius gave the prefect an uncharacteristically ugly scowl, but he didn't say anything. He was clearly holding back a response that would've earned him several detentions.

The prefect's eyes narrowed into slits. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"For what?" Sirius shouted angrily.

"Disrespect."

"_What_? I didn't even—I could've—_you_—"

"Move along, now, or it'll be ten more points. You're crowding the hallway," the prefect interrupted coolly, scowling at our other classmates too for good measure. Cowed, the group of students around us dispersed, and the snobby prefect strutted off toward the Potions classroom. Sirius glared at the back of his head like he was trying to burn a hole through it.

"Come on," James mumbled, shooting one last warning look at the Avery boy before he turned and walked away. Sirius reluctantly marched off, but he was scowling the whole way out of the dungeons.

"You know him?" Remus asked tentatively.

"Lucius Malfoy," Sirius grumbled with distaste. "Sissy's boyfriend – the world's biggest prat." A smirk flickered on his lips. "She brought him to a family dinner about a month ago. I vanished one of the legs on his chair."

James grinned. "Seems he remembers you."

Sirius smiled and shrugged. "I tend to make an impression on people. It's a curse of mine."

I was still wondering who Sissy was, but then James started talking about flying lessons (the next and final class on our schedule), and I decided to drop it. But, as it was, I didn't have to wait long for the answer. An hour later, on our way out of the castle, a severely pretty witch – a fifth year, probably – with long blonde hair and a sharp jaw caught us in front of the main doors. "Sirius," she called, marching toward us in a regal way.

"Sissy," Sirius addressed her darkly, standing up straighter and mimicking her haughty expression.

"I want a word," she told him. Her icy blue eyes combed over James, Remus, and me with disdain. "Leave."

James started to argue, but Sirius said hastily, "It's fine. I'll catch up." Looking a little hurt, James frowned. "Just go," he insisted.

"Okay," James conceded reluctantly. "Just don't be late. I can't show you up at flying lessons if you're not there."

Sirius smiled, but his eyes stayed solemn. We left him alone with the imposing witch and set off for the Quidditch pitch, but we'd only been walking for a few seconds when James paused and looked back at the doors, frowning.

"You think we could hear what they're saying from out here?"

Bewildered, I stared at him for a moment, noticing the unease in his eyes. Clearly, his motive was something more than curiosity – but what was it?

"I don't think Sirius would appreciate us eavesdropping on him," Remus pointed out.

"He wouldn't have to know about it," James said frankly. At our surprised silence, he turned around, and guilt flashed across his face. "Yeah, you're right," he decided. "Let's go."

In somewhat awkward silence, the three of us continued across the grounds, slowing our pace to give Sirius more time to catch up. We were almost to the Quidditch pitch when he came jogging up behind us, a little out of breath.

"What was that about?" James asked at once, and I saw that his uneasy frown had returned.

"Just family drama," Sirius dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Your sister?" I asked.

A grimace twisted his handsome face. "Oh, hell no! I've only got my brother, Regulus, and he's much more bearable. That was my cousin Narcissa – the one who's dating that Malfoy bloke."

"What did she want?" James pried.

"Just a chat," Sirius answered, looking a little uncomfortable. At James's unwavering stare, he added, "Relax, mate. She's just annoyed about the whole Gryffindor thing. Nothing to get your broomstick bent up about." His gaze switched deliberately to the Quidditch pitch, where we could see a group of first years standing near a row of brooms laid out on the grass. "And speaking of broomsticks, I hope you're ready to eat my dust, Potter."

That seemed to have the desired effect of distracting James. I couldn't help but notice the relief on Sirius's face as James's worried frown was replaced with a cocky grin. "In your dreams, Black. They'd better have something decent for us to practice on..."

The idea of flying consumed my attention too, but not in the same way. While we were all standing around and waiting for the lesson to begin, I started chewing my lip and wringing my hands. I had a very bad feeling that I'd be _worse_ than mediocre at flying, since I wasn't even coordinated with two feet on the ground. I imagined myself skyrocketing into the air and falling off my broom, and I shuddered. James noticed my anxiety and took it upon himself to give me some tips, which I was secretly grateful for.

"It's easy, Peter, trust me. All you do is hold on tight, dominant hand in front, and lean in whatever direction you want to go. If you want to stop, pull back – but not too hard, or you'll shoot upwards. And to speed up, you just—"

"Speed up?" I interjected with a breathy laugh. "Like I'd want to speed up!"

The shrill screech of a whistle cut through the chatter. Our flying instructor was an impatient-looking woman with short gray hair and predatory yellow eyes. She was only slightly less intimidating than McGonagall – an observation that didn't help my nerves.

"Now that we're all here, my name is Madam Hooch. First things first: I want no messing around in this class. Flying is a dangerous sport if done improperly. If you decide to goof off and act recklessly, you'll be facing more than a few cuts and bruises. Namely, you'll be risking expulsion from the school. Understood?" Affirmative murmurs rippled through the crowd. I stole a sideways glance at James and Sirius, who were both frowning. I could practically see the wheels of mischief turning as they caught each other's eyes and smirked.

"Good. Everyone, line up next to a broom to begin. Go on, hurry up!"

The four of us lined up in a row, James and Sirius grinning now, Remus looking quite pale. Judging by my shaky hands and upset stomach, my face was probably turning green.

"We'll start with a simple summoning command," Madam Hooch began. "Hold your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up'! Your broom should jump into your hand. Don't be discouraged if you don't get it on your first try. Begin!"

The four of us said "Up!" at once; our voices mingled with a disorderly chorus of shouts. James's broom leaped into his outstretched hand as if it was magnetized to it. He smirked playfully at Sirius, who'd only managed to levitate his halfway off the ground before it fell again with a _plunk_. Disgruntled, he scowled at his broom and repeated the command so forcefully that I would've jumped if he'd been directing it at me. This time, the broom wisely obeyed.

Remus and I had no such luck. His broom merely rolled over a bit, and mine didn't even budge. Most of the other students had similar results. We continued to shout until Madam Hooch told us all to pick up our brooms and demonstrate the proper flying positions. Then she walked around and critiqued us.

"Move down lower, you'll never stay on the broom like that!" She snapped at Snape, whose face turned pink. James whispered something to Sirius, and the two of them snickered.

"You're lopsided," she pointed out when she made it to me. "Lean to the right more, and keep a good grip—"

Right on cue, my broom slipped out of my hands while I was adjusting my position. It clattered noisily to the ground, and I hastily picked it up again, feeling my cheeks blazing with shame. "Keep a good grip on it," Madam Hooch reiterated, looking exasperated. James and Sirius bit their lips, clearly holding back grins. Then they noticed a few Slytherins laughing at me (Avery and Snape among them), and their expressions morphed into defensive glares.

Remus also got a bit of criticism: "Don't hunch over so much – you'll be flying like a bullet if you do that – and move your grip down a bit." When Madam Hooch reached James and Sirius, however, she nodded and passed by without comment. The two shared a satisfied smile that I sorely wished I could relate to.

Once everyone was in the proper positions, Madame Hooch had us space out. Then she twirled her wand, and a bright yellow ribbon came out of the end, falling to the ground in a straight line in front of us. "Now you're ready for the practical lesson. On my whistle, I want you to kick off the ground – _gently_ – and land at the yellow line."

I stole a glance at my friends. James and Sirius looked a little too excited about flying a few feet. Remus was trying to force a calm expression.

"Three—"

I faced forward, focusing on the yellow line and praying that nothing would go wrong.

"Two—"

I tightened my grip and prepared to kick.

"One—"

But the whistle never sounded. A half-second before it, James and Sirius had already kicked off – hard. They flattened themselves against their brooms just like Madam Hooch had told Remus _not_ to do, shooting into the sky like missiles. The gust from of their takeoff whipped the yellow ribbon into the air, so we all could do nothing but watch. I gasped as they narrowly maneuvered through a row of evergreens from four stories up.

Madam Hooch was beside herself with anger. "GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" She yelled. I noticed a few Slytherins grinning gleefully, and I felt a wave of dread. James and Sirius were in _deep_ trouble.

The two of them turned and headed back, still high above us. Then James abruptly pointed his broom down and spun haphazardly toward the ground, like a biplane with a missing wing. A few girls screamed, and I felt a cold rush of fear. He couldn't possibly survive an impact like that!

"PULL UP, POTTER! PULL UP!" Madam Hooch shrieked.

Thankfully, James managed to reorient himself and pull out of his treacherous dive at the last second. He braked hard and tumbled roughly off his broom, somersaulting in the grass. Sirius touched down not far from him, wearing an oddly closed expression, but nobody paid him any attention. The class was focused on Madame Hooch as she rushed over to James, who was slowly getting to his feet. He staggered like he was dizzy.

"Mr. Potter!" She shouted, torn between fury and relief. "What do you think you were doing!? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

James adjusted his crooked glasses and blinked at her with wide eyes, like he was having trouble focusing on her. "Sorry, m'am," he answered innocently. "I don't understand how any of that happened. It went so fast, I just lost control."

Madam Hooch sputtered angrily for a moment. "You…w-well, you're lucky to be alive! You're sitting out the rest of this lesson! I daresay you've had enough excitement for the entire class!"

For a second, disappointment flashed in James's eyes. Then his innocent look returned, and he nodded obediently.

"Oh, come on! That's it?" Snape blurted. "He's clearly faking it!"

Madam Hooch scowled at him. "Your classmate could've been seriously injured or killed from a crash like that. I would've expected a bit more concern, Mr. Snape."

Snape opened his mouth and then clamped it shut again, fuming. Behind the instructor's back, James seemed to be having trouble keeping a straight face. Then Sirius chimed in, speaking in a polite and innocent tone that gelled perfectly with his good looks but sounded extremely out of character. "M'am, these brooms are a lot more sensitive than any I've flown before. I didn't even mean to pass the ribbon. Maybe the two of us could try using different ones?" James nodded in fervent agreement, and Madam Hooch frowned, gazing at the two of them skeptically.

"Very well," she admitted after a moment. "I suppose I'll have to have them checked after class. It is possible that the Ravenclaw team was trying to enchant them again, those foolish rascals and their experiments..." She picked up the two offending brooms, and her hawk-like eyes combed over Sirius appraisingly. "I admire your eagerness to try again, Mr. Black, but I'd feel much better if you and Mr. Potter observed the rest of the lesson from the ground. Besides, judging by how well you handled that incident, I'd say you are already ahead." Sirius beamed, and she turned to James. "As for you, Mr. Potter, we'll pick up where we left off next class."

For the rest of the flying lesson, the two of them stayed on the sidelines, whispering happily to each other and watching everyone else struggle. Some had more trouble than others – myself included. Fortunately, my screw-ups didn't take center stage this time. At one point when we were all hovering a few feet off the ground, Snape's broom started wobbling and jumping like it was trying to buck him off. The greasy-haired boy gritted his teeth and held on, but the broom only grew more agitated. After a few seconds, it made an aggressive jerking motion that succeeded in throwing him to the ground. A few kids snickered, James and Sirius among them. With his face turning beet red, Snape scooped himself up from the ground and shot a glare at them. "Maybe you ought to have that one checked too," James advised in a serious tone, and Madam Hooch took a moment to inspect Snape's broom. My two friends' faces turned bright pink from stifling their laughs.

When the nerve-wracking lesson was finally over, everyone chatted animatedly on the way back to the castle, either about their weekend plans, about Snape's broom, or about James nearly dying. When our group gained some distance from the other students, Remus asked dryly, "So, were you two _trying_ to get expelled, or are you just really stupid?"

James feigned offense. "Remus! I could've gotten hurt! I expected more concern..."

Sirius snorted. "Cocky git." James smiled like he'd just been given a compliment, and Sirius chuckled. "It was totally worth it, though," he added wistfully. "I haven't flown like that in so long." Then he noticed Remus's expression and pouted. "Rem, it's fine. We're not _completely_ stupid. She bought it, didn't she?"

"Hardly," Remus responded, his tone a mix of concern and disapproval. "You're lucky the Ravenclaw Quidditch team gave you an alibi."

"Speaking of which, you owe me one," James teased, nudging Sirius. "She wouldn't have gone for that excuse about the brooms being faulty if I hadn't riled her up with my near-death experience."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Near-death, my arse. You planned that dive to a tee, Potter."

"But it looked so real," I remarked in awe. "How did you do it?"

James swelled with pride. "I'm a future Seeker. Dives are my specialty. I've never done a spinning one before, though, so I didn't land it as well as I could've. But I suppose that worked in my favor."

"Yes, excellent acting, Potter. You've convinced us all of your astounding arrogance."

At the sound of Snape's caustic voice, James's demeanor changed completely. He stopped and turned, squaring his shoulders, and his fingers twitched like he was about to draw his wand – but when he saw the redheaded Lily Evans standing next to his rival, he hesitated. He decided to use words instead: "And you've convinced us that you can't stay on a broom for longer than five seconds, Snivellus."

Snape's narrowed eyes burned with dislike. "You and Black did that! I know it!"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Blaming us for your lack of skill? Sounds like jealousy to me."

Snape's lips curled into a snarl, and he turned his glare to James. "Next time, I hope you crash."

Lily's emerald eyes widened. "Sev!"

Sirius took a step forward so his face was only inches from the other boy's large nose. His gray eyes flashed like steel. "Take that back."

To my surprise, Snape didn't back down. He stood up straighter and puffed out his skinny chest. "Why should I? It's what he deserves."

Sirius looked like he was about to lunge at the greasy-haired git, but James put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't, mate. He's baiting you," he warned, jerking his chin at a place further down the path, where Madam Hooch was in plain sight and walking briskly toward us.

Reluctantly, Sirius stepped back, and Snape looked smug. "What happened to that shameless rule-breaking attitude? The brave Gryffindor, Sirius Black, is too scared to fight me in front of a professor?"

"He's brave, not an idiot," I interjected irritably.

Snape fixed me with a look of distaste. "I don't remember asking you, Pettigrew," he replied coolly. James's hand twitched again, and the greasy-haired boy jeered, "Go ahead, Potter, hex me. I've love to see you get expelled after all."

Both Remus and Lily seemed uneasy with the direction this conversation was going. "Guys," Remus murmured in warning, glancing at Madam Hooch, who was probably within earshot by now.

"Let's go, Severus," Lily begged, putting her hand on his arm. Grudgingly, Snape allowed himself to be led away, but he couldn't resist calling out one last taunt:

"Mark my words: You two will be kicked out before this year is over."

I thought Sirius's glare had been intense when he'd given it to the Malfoy prefect, but that was nothing compared to how fiercely his eyes burned now. "I hate that git," he grumbled. "What's his problem?"

James shrugged, looking only vaguely annoyed. "Slytherins," he answered simply.

Sirius pulled a dubious face. Then he shook his head. "I think he's a special case, mate."

After a few more minutes of ranting about Snape (allowing for as much distance as possible between us and him), we set off toward the castle again. Then Sirius elbowed me. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Sticking up for me like that. Didn't know you had it in you, Pete."

Remus chuckled. "Sirius Black, champion of backhanded compliments."

Sirius smirked sheepishly. The expression looked out of place on his handsome face. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

I decided to ignore the insult and focus instead on the cozy warmth that was growing in my chest. "You guys stood up for me earlier," I pointed out. "I owed you one."

"You didn't owe us. That's what friends are for," James corrected, and Sirius nodded.

I couldn't help but smile. I, Peter Pettigrew – the pudgy and easy-to-ignore half-blood, who had nearly cut off his finger and blown up the Potions classroom in the first week – was _friends_ with the two smartest and most popular pure-bloods in my year. Sure, they had a few flaws, but I didn't care much about that. For once, I was a part of something great.

And I was extremely happy about it.


	5. Family

_Family_

_Remus_

It was the end of my first week at Hogwarts, and everything was going so much better than I'd expected. I managed to get through all my classes without seriously messing up anything. I'd made it into my dad's House and earned twenty points from the headmaster himself. The first full moon was still a whole week away. (That was a _later_ problem.) And I had three amazing friends, who, despite all the trouble that seemed to be magnetized to them, were loyal, clever, and funny. I couldn't believe my luck.

I should've figured that something was bound to go very wrong.

I was the first one to wake up on Saturday morning – before James decided to get his revenge. I was already dressed and out of bed when he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching. "Morning," I said softly, and he responded with a groggy _hum_. Then he looked at the lump of covers that was Sirius, and a wave of mischievous energy dispelled all his signs of tiredness. He put on his glasses, crept out of bed, and gave me a shushing gesture. Then he threw his pillow at the pile of covers.

With a massive jolt, Sirius appeared, looking like a startled animal. I stifled a laugh as James said cheerily, "G'morning, Siri! Happy Saturday!"

With an exasperated groan, Sirius collapsed and pulled the covers back over his head. James responded by reclining in his bed next to him like he was lounging on the beach. Sirius grunted and pushed him away, and James hit the floor with a surprised, "Ow!"

The ruckus startled Peter awake. He frowned down at James. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Because I can see the starlight so much better from down here."

Sirius's scowling face reappeared from the covers. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Monday," James reminded him cheekily.

With a disgruntled sigh, he gave up on sleeping and discarded his covers onto the floor – right onto James. "Fine, Potter. If it's war you want, it's war you'll get. Just remember that you started this."

"I did not!" James laughed as he freed himself from the pile.

"You retaliated. That means you started it the second time."

"What kind of logic is that?"

"My logic."

"Your logic is terrible."

The two continued to bicker good-naturedly for the entire walk to the Great Hall. James seemed to have caught Sirius's enthusiasm from the first day of class, and while Sirius looked annoyed, an occasional smile slipped through. At some point during breakfast, the subject switched to Quidditch. Sirius was arguing around a piece of toast, telling us why the Holyhead Harpies were going to lose their next match with the Kenmare Kestrels (a fact which James had been disputing adamantly for the past five minutes), when a snowy owl dropped an envelope between us. I had just enough time to notice the elaborate wax seal and silver-inked penmanship before Sirius snatched it away. His eyes widened with alarm.

"Who's it from?" I asked.

"My dad," he muttered. Judging by the look on his face, that wasn't a good sign.

"You know, there aren't that many people at breakfast this early on a weekend," James remarked like he was commenting on the weather. He subtly nudged the candelabra toward him.

Sirius didn't even smile. "I should probably read this…"

Suddenly, a shoebox-sized package dropped in the middle of us, knocking over Peter's orange juice.

"Oh, not again..._hey_!"

My father's gray owl stole a piece of bacon from Peter's plate and nipped affectionately at my hand before flying off. Smiling apologetically, I replaced Peter's bacon with a strip from my own plate. Then I pulled the box closer and read the note attached to it. "It's from my parents," I announced. "Some kind of care package."

"Well, don't just stare at it!" James said eagerly.

I glanced at Sirius, who was still holding the unopened letter from his dad. The dread in his eyes was muted now. Noticing my hesitation, he tried for a valiant smirk. "You go first."

I neatly slit the flaps of the box and beamed at the contents: Kit Kats, Mars Bars, Snickers, Cadbury eggs, and all sorts of other treats that I couldn't get from the magical world. "Are those Twizzlers?" Peter gasped. I smiled and handed him the pack, and his eyes shone with joy. "Thanks, Remus! Wow, I didn't think I'd see these again so soon! My dad buys them all the time; he has a thing for them."

James was gaping at the box with childlike wonder. It suddenly occurred to me that my pure-blood friends might be a bit out of the loop. "This is Muggle candy?" He asked hopefully, and I nodded.

"Go ahead and take something. There's no way I can eat this all by myself."

James pondered his choice. Then he claimed a Lion Bar, grinning at the graphic on the packaging. As he began to unwrap it, I turned to Sirius, who was staring at the box of candy with an uncomfortable expression. Hoping to cheer him up, I fished out a bag of Pop Rocks and held them out to him. He hesitated.

"Come on," I teased. "Don't tell me you're not a candy person."

Yielding to a small smile, he accepted the thin package, but he frowned again when he read the label. He tore off a strip at the top and peered inside, puzzled. "It just looks like pink sugar."

"Try some," I invited in my most nonchalant tone.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You gave me the weird stuff, didn't you?"

"I thought you'd appreciate it," I admitted, allowing myself a smirk. Sirius pouted at me. Then he tipped half the bag into his mouth before I could say, "Not too much at once!" He stopped, eyes wide with alarm, and I explained, "It's alright. It just might—"

He cut me off with a startled whine, and his eyes widened even more. "Be a bit overwhelming," I finished, biting my lip to hold back a laugh. James watched in bewilderment and Peter cracked up as Sirius bounced up and down on his seat, whimpering like he was trying to tell us something. I could faintly hear the candy popping in his mouth. "You can still talk," I told him, barely keeping my composure.

He opened his mouth and let out a delighted bark of laughter. "Ca' you 'ear id? Id's poppi'g!" He shook the pack enticingly at James, and soon both of them were grinning with mouths full of jumping cherry candy.

"This isn't magic?"

"Nope. Just a chemical reaction," I answered happily, enjoying the fact that I could teach them some things about the Muggle world.

With great effort, Sirius crunched down on the last of his mouthful. "Where do you get them?" He asked eagerly.

"I'm not sure where exactly," I admitted. "I think you can buy them at a lot of different shops. My mum's a Muggle, so she knows where to go." I smiled down at the box, picking out a Mars Bar. "She must have been feeling nostalgic about me going off to be a wizard. I suppose this is meant to remind me of her."

For some reason, Sirius looked alarmed. "You mean your mum's a Muggleborn, right?"

"No, she's an actual Muggle. She's not magical."

"Really?" Peter chimed in. "That's rare these days."

"But that must be dangerous," Sirius went on nervously.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's just..." His gray eyes flickered with regret, and he shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"What were you going to say?" James asked. His voice held a sharpness that caught me by surprise. It reminded me unpleasantly of when he and Sirius had first met, before they'd started talking about Quidditch and tormenting Snape.

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly. "With the war going on, I mean. The Dark Lord's supporters tend to target people like that. They hate it when magical people mix with Muggles."

My insides clenched at the thought, but this wasn't news to me. My dad always set up protective spells on every new house we moved into for that very reason – and, not to mention, the werewolf incident. I suppressed a shudder. _Don't think about that now. Not around the others._

The palpable tension in the air was enough to steer my thoughts back to the present. Sirius's expression had morphed from uneasy to suspicious. "What did you think I was going to say?" He asked James slowly.

"It doesn't matter," James said, not meeting his eyes. "And don't call him the Dark Lord," he added abruptly, like he couldn't hold it in. "Only Death Eaters call him that."

Sirius stiffened. His stubborn scowl became like stone. "I suppose you want me to call him 'You-Know-Who' like a toddler?"

"Just call him Voldemort," James snapped. Peter gasped, and I felt a chill run across my skin. My parents used the name, but they'd always told me not to go around saying it offhand. Most people reacted poorly, either in outrage or terror.

"Fine. _Voldemort_," Sirius said firmly, narrowing his eyes at James.

"You're not supposed to say that," Peter whimpered, his blue eyes wide and scared.

"My mum always said the fear of a name only fuels the fear of the thing itself," I reasoned in a calm voice, trying to defuse the tension.

"That's what it is, then? You think I'm scared?" Sirius challenged, and I jumped. Then I realized he was looking at James.

"What are you talking about? I never said—"

"Oh, don't act all high-and-mighty," Sirius interrupted. His haughty expression couldn't mask the anger in his gray eyes. "You thought I was going to go off about Muggles being a danger to wizards, didn't you? Or maybe you think I'm going to hunt down Remus's parents myself, like the Death Eater I am?"

For a second, James looked stricken. "_What_? That's not—" Anger narrowed his hazel eyes. "You're being a git! I didn't say that!"

Sirius's bark-like laugh held no humor. "_I'm_ being a git? Try looking in the mirror at that big head of yours."

James seemed to be trying to calm down. "I'm not saying—I know you're not like that. I was just..." He hesitated.

Sirius suddenly stood from the table, his eyes burning fiercely. "You were just _what_, James?"

"Sirius, please sit down," I begged. "He didn't mean—"

"He can speak for himself, Remus," he cut me off. His glare didn't waver.

James scowled up at him. "You were raised by a bunch of Voldemort supporters, Sirius – you say it yourself."

Hurt flashed in his eyes. "So you don't trust me."

James winced. Then a surge of defensiveness rippled through him, and he stood up too. (At this point, the few people in the Hall had turned to watch.) "You don't trust us, either! How am I supposed to trust you when you never tell us anything about your family?"

Sirius seemed taken aback. "I tell you stuff all the time!"

"Only when it's convenient for you. What about the chat with your cousin yesterday? And you seemed so eager to grab that letter from your dad a few minutes ago – and it wasn't even opened! Admit it: you're hiding something."

Sirius's voice was strained as he growled, "That's none of your business! I'm sorry your dad can't clear that one up for you, but have you ever thought that maybe you don't need to know everything?"

James's ears went red, but his determined scowl stayed put. "I'd like to know my friends, at least."

"So you can make sure I'm not gonna hex you in your sleep."

He took a deep breath. "Look, mate, I get that you're different."

"Yeah, and I thought you were too," Sirius muttered. Avoiding everyone's eyes, he grabbed the wax-sealed letter and stormed out of the Great Hall.

With an annoyed scowl, James watched him go. "Where does he think he's going? He knows he lives with us, right?" He sank back onto the bench and viciously stabbed a piece of pancake, but as he brought it to his lips, he hesitated. Then he put his fork down and stared at the bronze doors with a wry expression. "Should I go after him?" He was trying to sound neutral, but I could hear the guilt in his voice; I had a lot of experience with that particular emotion.

"Let him cool down first," I recommended.

James sighed in frustration and continued mutilating his pancakes. "I suppose you two are mad at me too."

Peter bit his lip like he was reluctant to say anything. I took a deep breath and answered honestly, "I understand what you meant, but I think you could've started off a bit better."

"I didn't mean to offend him! I just...I need friends who I can _trust_," James told me passionately, like he was begging me to agree. "And I _want_ to trust Sirius – I really do. I just don't want to get my hopes up if he's going to..." He faded off, scowling.

"Let his family influence him?" I inferred.

Worry and frustration stirred in his hazel eyes. "I know I'm being a prat, badgering him about it," he admitted, "but he's acting so sneaky. What is it that he can't tell us? Is his family getting to him? What if he starts shutting us out and acting like a Slytherin?"

"Why would he do that when he's already in Gryffindor?" Peter pointed out.

James frowned at his plate. "Yeah, I guess."

I watched him for a moment, wondering how he much worse he would react if he found out about the secret _I_ was hiding. Then I took a deep breath and asked, "Do you trust Peter and I?"

"Yes. You never gave me any reason not to," he answered pointedly.

The retort was clearly directed at Sirius, but I couldn't help but cringe inside. I steepled my fingers and tried to refocus my thoughts, praying that my guilt wasn't too evident. "Regardless, I think Sirius needs the same thing you do: friends he can trust, and friends who trust him. He's already proven to us that he wants to be different from his family. He knew they wouldn't support him, but he wanted to be in Gryffindor anyway. Now he needs _our_ support."

James scowled at the fluffy wasteland on his plate. "Can't support him very well if we only know half of the problem," he mumbled, absentmindedly dragging a piece of pancake around the syrupy rim.

I wasn't sure what to say to that, and James promptly changed the subject to classwork. The deliberate switch left me wondering if my attempt to analyze the situation had even helped at all.

For a while after breakfast, we didn't see any sign of Sirius, despite James insisting that we should explore the castle and the grounds to get our bearings. Three long hours (and many moving flights of stairs, dead ends, and confusing doorways) later, Peter and I collapsed onto the common room sofas. James scanned the room somberly. A crowd of older kids were playing Exploding Snap by the fireplace, and several smaller groups were lounging around, working on homework and talking.

"Be right back," James muttered, and he slipped up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

"What's he doing?" Peter wondered aloud.

I didn't answer. Judging by James's disappointed frown as he'd looked around the common room, I was beginning to think he'd only told us half of his motive for wanting to explore the castle. In a few minutes, he reappeared with a stack of textbooks in his arms. His disgruntled attitude was unchanged as he plopped onto the couch next to me and spread the books on the table. I noticed he'd brought several copies of the same subjects: mine and Peter's too.

"Oh! Thanks, James."

Peter gazed at the books like they were repulsive creatures. "Homework on a Saturday?"

"It's a good idea," I pointed out. "We have to do that Transfiguration essay and the star charts of the northern sky for Monday."

James had just opened the Astronomy textbook and flipped to the right page when he blurted irritably, "If he's not in the dormitory, where is he?"

I blinked at him, startled. He hadn't mentioned Sirius since breakfast. Peter stared at him blankly. "Who?"

James glared. "Who do you think, dimwit?" He closed the Astronomy textbook with a snap and shoved it away, opting for Transfiguration instead. He grumbled something about doing the star chart later, but he'd barely skimmed the first paragraph of the chapter we were supposed to read before he spoke up again: "You don't think he's hanging out with his cousins, do you?" Unease mixed with his anger this time.

"I doubt it," I responded soothingly as I flipped through my own textbook, hiding my own nerves. "Don't worry. He'll have to show up tonight. You can talk to him then."

"I don't want to talk to him," James muttered. "I want _him_ to talk to _us_."

Just then, the portrait hole opened and – speak of the devil – a familiar black-haired boy came through. Something flashed in Sirius's eyes when he saw us, but he immediately looked away, and his expression remained cold and distant as he walked past us on his way to the stairs. It was like he hadn't even noticed us.

That was too much for James. He sprung up from the couch before Sirius could escape and called out, "What, that's it? You're just going to ignore us?"

Sirius stopped to cross his arms at James. His face was impassive, and he sounded exasperated. "What do you want from me, Potter?"

"Where were you all day?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you, my mother? That's none of your business – _again_. Now, if you'll kindly let me leave this scene you're making..." He gestured widely to the other Gryffindors, many of whom had paused what they were doing to watch.

"Oh, give it a rest. You sound like that Malfoy prat," James scoffed. "You can't keep avoiding us forever. That's not how friendship works."

At the mention of Malfoy, Sirius's cool facade crumbled. "I wasn't avoiding my friends. I was avoiding _you_," he growled, glaring.

James crossed his arms. "That's really what you want?"

"Friends don't call their friends Death Eaters," Sirius snapped.

"You're putting words in my mouth again!"

His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Ah, right, that's terribly rude of me. I suppose that's not what you meant?"

"No, it's not! If you'd just _listen_ through that thick skull of yours—"

"I'll pass."

Sirius turned and walked up the stairs before James could do much more than sputter. Fuming, he glared for a moment, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. Then he snatched up his Transfiguration textbook and grumbled, "Library." In seconds, he was gone.

Helplessly, Peter's beady blue eyes darted from the stairs to the portrait hole. "What are we supposed to do?" He wondered timidly.

I bit my lip, thinking. "You should go with James. He'll need someone to rant to."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to try to talk to Sirius," I decided, dreading the idea. I didn't want my new group of friends to fall apart, but their mutual stubbornness worried me. What if Sirius refused to listen to me? Would he shut me out just like he'd shut out James? The thought was unsettling, but I refused to stand by while my two friends senselessly attacked each other. I had to try.

Peter seemed unsure about his own assignment. "Go on. Just let him do the talking," I advised, and he nodded. He quickly scooped up his textbooks and scurried off after James. Then I took a deep breath, picked up my own textbooks (mostly for something to do with my hands), and headed upstairs.

When I reached our dormitory, Sirius was rifling through his trunk with his back to me. I stopped in the doorway, making my last steps deliberately louder so I didn't surprise him. He paused, still facing his trunk. The silence lingered for an uncomfortable second.

"I don't want to talk."

I gripped my books a little tighter and pondered how to respond. I imagined how I would feel if my friends started prying me for personal details about, say, my lycanthropy. That made it clear how to proceed.

"Okay. I'm not going to force you."

Sirius looked over his shoulder, and his stony expression wavered. "Oh. I thought you were James," he murmured. Then he turned back to whatever he was doing.

Gently, I placed my textbooks on my trunk and waited. I wondered if I should sit down, but I decided against it. I didn't want to pressure him more than I already was.

"Did he put you up to this?" Sirius asked suddenly. His voice was guarded.

"No," I said openly. He gazed at me, and I stared back as calmly as I could. After a moment, his expression softened, and he nodded awkwardly. Then he turned back to his trunk, apparently searching for something. I waited for a few more seconds, but Sirius didn't go on, and I realized he wasn't planning to. Intending to keep my word, I started to leave, but then he said:

"Remus."

My heart jumped, and I turned in the doorway. "Hm?"

His detached façade had fallen away, and he was looking at me like he wanted to tell me something important. Then his eyes clouded over, and he said stiffly, "Thanks. You're a good friend."

I pushed through my disappointment with a kind smile. "Of course. If you change your mind, let me know."

Sirius nodded, and I left the room, wondering for the second time that day if my efforts had made a difference.

* * *

The next day didn't start off any better. I woke up to the sound of raised voices coming from the bathroom. Frowning, I checked my watch. It was seven in the morning...on a Sunday. _That's bizarre_, I thought, until I caught a snippet of their argument:

"Admit it! I was right!"

"I do _not_ think you're going to 'hex me in my sleep', Black! I know you're not _that_ much of a git!"

"Then why are you up this early?"

"Maybe I just didn't want to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning!"

Rubbing my face tiredly, I tried to ignore their voices and go back to sleep. The situation reminded me of when I'd used to overhear my parents arguing after transformations. At that unpleasant thought, my empty stomach clenched, and I knew I had no chance of falling asleep again. Resigned to my fate, I stared up at the ceiling and listened, sighing quietly whenever I heard one insult the other. Eavesdropping on my friends was almost as painful as it was with my parents. I wondered how long it would take for this to blow over – if it ever would.

To me, James and Sirius were two sides of the same coin: they had very different upbringings, yet their personalities were strikingly similar. They were both brilliant, funny, brave, outgoing, and mischievous – but they also had the same intense pride and stubbornness that inevitably led to confrontations. Sure, they were good at heart, and I liked being friends with them. But understanding how alike they were made it even more frustrating to watch their friendship crumble over a case of...well, pride and stubbornness, as far as I could tell.

The slamming of the bathroom door jolted me out of my psychoanalysis. I heard someone stomp into the room in the direction of Sirius's bed. A few seconds later, another set of footfalls reached my ears.

"Running away again?" James's voice was low, but not enough to mask his frustration.

"I'm sure you'd like that," Sirius snapped back, barely quieter than normal.

"Actually, I'd like to sort this out, but I can't do that until you stop avoiding me."

Sirius snorted. "Funny coming from the bloke who woke up an hour early just to avoid me."

"Don't act like you didn't do the exact same thing."

"I would say great minds think alike, but that might be misleading."

James forgot to lower his voice after that. "How is insulting me going to help?"

"My bad," Sirius responded thickly. "You've got beautiful eyes. Now will you leave me alone and stop being a pushy git?"

"I'm only being pushy because you're acting so weird," James argued. He hesitated, and his tone softened slightly. "I'm worried about you, mate."

I held my breath, but Sirius's hollow chuckle made the hope in my chest deflate. "Yeah, I know. You're worried I'm going to grow up to be the kind of person your dad hunts."

I could hear James's frustration. "You're doing it again. I didn't say that."

Sirius sighed in defeat. "Alright then, _tell me_, James. Why are you worried about me?"

There was a short pause. "Because you're acting different. You're not being yourself," James said finally.

"And has it occurred to you that part of the reason I'm acting different is because _you're_ acting different toward me?" Silence. Sirius's tone became exasperated. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I guess you can only see past your ego when it's convenient for you."

"_My_ ego?" James sputtered, abandoning all attempts at civility. "You arrogant little berk! I know this isn't really about me; it's about all those letters you've been getting! If you just told us—"

"And what's telling you going to do? Magically solve all my problems? I hate to break it to you, James, but the world doesn't work like that."

"I'm not saying it will, but if you would quit being so secretive—"

Finally, something snapped in me. I sat up and threw my curtains open. "_Shut up_! Can't you two just lay off each other already?"

An alarmed Peter peeked out from his curtains, and James and Sirius stared at me like deer in the headlights. A cold lump of dread forced its way down my throat and into my stomach, like I'd just swallowed an ice cube. Now_ I_ was the one who was acting different. I could count the number of times that I'd risen my voice on one hand. It just felt _wrong_. I suppose I was a bit strained by the tension, but I had a feeling the real reason I'd shouted was deeper than that.

Thankfully, my friends didn't resent me for my outburst. In fact, James and Sirius were astonishingly civil after that. They joined Peter and me at breakfast– which turned out to be a bit awkward, since I ended up doing most of the talking – but I appreciated the effort. They even spoke to each other, though it was just simple things like asking to pass the salt or agreeing that the bacon was delicious.

The ceasefire became even more evident when Sirius decided to help us with our Astronomy charts, since none of us had finished them the day before. Since he was the best at the subject, he gave us all pointers and even personally instructed James when he got confused about which constellation was which. I was just starting to feel hopeful that everything was going to mend itself when I heard the clicking of talons on the common room windowsill.

At the sight of the snowy owl, Sirius's eyes flashed with panic. Then his expression became masked again, and my heart sank. The owl alighted smoothly on his armrest and dropped another crisp envelope into his lap. This time, the bird stayed and watched him with her round yellow eyes. "Shoo," Sirius muttered, attempting to push her off the sofa. The offended owl pecked at his fingers, and he stifled a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked nervously.

"Fine," he muttered, dabbing at his bleeding finger.

"I think she's waiting for you to write back," James advised. His tone was calm but dishearteningly detached.

Sirius scowled at the wax-sealed letter with stormy eyes. The owl clicked her beak impatiently, and he sighed and opened the envelope. The three of us watched in silence as he unfurled the page inside and started to read. About halfway through, his stoic expression flaked away, overtaken by one that would've fit a lost child. His jaw stayed firmly clenched, but his eyes held a new emotion: despair.

When he'd finished reading, he stared at the bottom of the page for a second. Then, suddenly irritated, he folded the letter with a vengeance and shoved it in his pocket. With the owl's gaze still fixed on him, he dug out a piece of blank parchment from his bag and spread it out on top of his Astronomy textbook. He dipped his quill in the ink, but his hand froze before the tip could touch the page. For a few seconds, he stared helplessly at the blank paper. Then he put his quill down and glared at the owl. "Give me some space, will you? Go get some treats at the Owlery or something."

The owl titled her head intently and then flew off through the open window. Sirius's shoulders sank with relief, and he turned wearily to the blank page again, biting his lip. Then he seemed to remember that we were still there, and he swallowed. "I should, er...I just remembered I left my Transfiguration essay in the library yesterday. I should go get it before Pince closes up for the night."

"The library doesn't close for another six hours," James pointed out bluntly.

"I know. I just don't want to forget about it," Sirius lied hastily, already piling his books into his bag.

James stood up from the couch at the same time as he did. "We'll go with you."

"No, it's fine, really. Stay here and work. I'll be back soon. Merlin knows you'll need my help again."

James's steely tone sliced through the icy air: "Cut the crap. Where are you really going?"

Sirius's lighthearted mask melted away. He almost looked like he was in pain. "Don't do this."

"If you told us about it, we could help you," James pressed.

"I doubt that."

"That's what friends are for, you know. It's not just about defending each other from slimeballs like Snape." James raised his eyebrows, and his tone became almost fragile. "We _are_ friends, right?"

A muscle in Sirius's jaw jumped. "Stop it."

"No!" James argued fervently, dropping all pretense. "I'm not going to stop until you suck it up and tell me what's going on with you! I'm trying to understand, but you're not making it—"

"You don't get it, do you?" Sirius blurted, his voice cracking. This time, he didn't even bother trying to hide his emotions. His pale eyes stung with grief, and his hands were shaking as he balled them into fists. "You can't help me with this, because you're never going to understand all the hell I've been through! Your parents _adore_ you. While your mum's making you fudge and writing you love notes, mine's busy trying to figure out how she's going to disown me without telling the rest of the family what a terrific failure I am! How could you possibly understand that?" His voice broke, and he scowled and looked away like he was angry at himself. "Don't follow me," he warned, picking up his bag.

"Wait—"

As James took a step after him, Sirius whirled around in rage, and his voice rang through the common room:

"Leave me_ alone_! We're not friends!"

James's eyes widened like he'd been slapped. For the first time that I'd seen, he looked distraught. Still as a statue, he watched as Sirius stormed through the portrait hole and disappeared.

For a few seconds, the common room was eerily quiet. Then James muttered, "Fine." He sank back onto the couch and glared down at his star chart. "Who needs him?" He flipped angrily through the pages of the textbook, but I doubted he was even looking at it. Filled with nervous energy, I stared at the portrait hole for a few seconds, reigning in an urge to run after Sirius and drag him back. Then James's voice made me jump: "Well? Are you just going to sit there?"

I swallowed and reluctantly reached for my Astronomy homework, but he snapped, "Not that." Confused, I frowned at him. "You looked like you wanted to go after him."

I hesitated, worried how he might react if I confirmed his suspicion. Reminding myself that I was a member of the House of bravery, I nodded.

"Well, you're missing your chance," James pointed out. "If you're going to do it, you'd better go now." His tone was difficult to decipher, but he didn't seem angry at me.

Standing up while I still had the courage, I abandoned the comfort of the sofa, my homework, and my other two friends. Before I could make it to the portrait hole, though, James said somberly, "Wait." He was gazing at me with a strange expression. "If you find him, tell him…" He paused, grimacing. "Tell him I care about him. Even though he's a git."

I nodded. "I'll try."

As it turned out, finding Sirius was harder than I'd anticipated. When I climbed out of the portrait hole, my shaggy-haired friend was nowhere to be seen. I wandered around the castle, checking all of the main areas and occasionally asking portraits for help, but with no luck. I was beginning to think that I should just give up and wait for him to come back to the room, when I ran into an older student I recognized: Narcissa Black. She was leaving the library with her boyfriend, the prefect Lucius Malfoy, and she seemed to be in a good mood. I made an impulsive decision and hurried over to them.

"Excuse me," I began politely, and the two of them turned to me with equally conceited expressions. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Sirius. Have you seen him?"

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "My little Gryffindor cousin's gone missing? Is he upset about Auntie Walburga raising the rent on him?" Her pale eyes gleamed with mirth.

I wasn't sure what her remark meant, so I disregarded it. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why should I care? He's probably trying to drown himself in the lake or something. Now, clear off, brat."

I was too consumed by a wave of hope to be annoyed at her; I hadn't thought to check the grounds. "Thanks," I told her quickly, and I ran off before she could say anything else.

As rude as Narcissa had been, it seemed she knew Sirius pretty well. I found him at the lake, standing on the end of an old wooden dock, skipping stones across the water. His well-thrown pebbles barely made it a tenth of the way across the vast surface. The warm end-of-summer breeze and bright blue sky couldn't chase away the cloud of loneliness and gloom that hung around him. I wondered if he'd done this before…and then I decided I'd rather not know.

If Sirius had heard me approaching him through the grass, he didn't give any indication. I noticed that the pile of smooth stones next to him was getting low, so I picked out about ten more from the bank and carried them over to him. Now I was positive that he could hear the boards of the dock creaking, but he didn't acknowledge me until I added my ammunition to his pile. He looked down at the new rocks and let slip a short _huff _of air. I thought he might have smirked.

"Thanks," he murmured, giving me a brief grateful look. Then he turned to face the water again – probably because he didn't want me to notice the redness of his eyes. That realization only made me more determined to help, but I figured he wouldn't appreciate pity. I tried to sound casual.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

He shrugged and handed me a stone to skip. "I'm trying to attract the Squid. I swear I saw him take a swing at the first stone."

I wasn't sure if he was joking, but I was just glad he was talking. For the next few minutes, the tranquil air was filled with by birdsong, the _flicks_ and _plunks_ of stones hitting the water, and Sirius's calm instruction: "Try doing it like this. Turn your wrist a little more. Yeah, that was a good one. You've got it." At least three times, I left and returned with more stones.

Finally, he asked curiously, "What is your family like, Remus? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind at all," I assured, internally scrambling for a way to describe my home life without giving him too many details. "My parents are fairly quiet, laid-back people. My dad works for the Ministry, in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. My mum used to work at an insurance office, but lately she's been staying at home or taking odd jobs wherever she can find them. We, er…we move around a lot, so it's kind of hard for her to settle down at one job, since she can't just Apparate to work."

"Why do you move around a lot?"

"Dad's work takes him across the country on assignments. Sometimes he's away for long periods of time. Mum decided it makes more sense for us to go with him." That prefabricated answer was only slightly true, but I didn't want to bring the subject anywhere near my condition. For the sake of keeping my friends and finishing my education, that was a secret I couldn't tell _anyone – _even when I was trying to convince my friend to trust me with his own secrets. I swallowed my guilt and fought to keep my face neutral.

Sirius didn't seem to notice; he was frowning pensively at the water. He flung another stone, and I watched it bounce one, two, three, four times before sinking below the surface. "Is it exciting, living in a bunch of different places?"

I smiled wryly. "I suppose it's nice to explore, but it's hard to keep your friends when you never stay in one place." _Especially when you aren't allowed to make friends in the first place..._

Sirius exhaled softly. "I can imagine. I grew up in the same house my whole life, and I still couldn't manage to keep mine." I furrowed my eyebrows at him. It was hard to imagine that someone as good-looking and naturally outgoing as Sirius Black could ever struggle with not having friends, but the frustration in his eyes was indisputable. He noticed my concern and muttered, "It's a long story."

"Well, I don't have anywhere else to be."

He assessed me with raised eyebrows. Then he smiled and shook his head. "You're good. James should take notes."

"He cares about you, you know," I told him gently. "He just gets carried away sometimes."

His halfhearted smirk slipped into a grimace. "I didn't mean what I said," he confessed, "about not being his friend." Scowling, he threw another stone. This one only skipped twice before disappearing with an inelegant _plunk_. "Don't get me wrong. He's still a pompous prat who's too stubborn to see that the world doesn't revolve around him." Remorse softened his tone. "But I don't hate him. And I get why he's suspicious. My family is the bad kind of crazy, and he has every right to be uncomfortable with that – Merlin knows _I_ am. It doesn't make it any less frustrating, though. I wish he would just trust me, but apparently that requires me to tell him my whole life story." He sighed and shook his head. "I dunno. I'm new to this whole trust thing, I guess." His melancholic gaze switched to wariness. "You won't tell him I said any of this, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," I confirmed. "But I do hope you'll tell him yourself. I think he needs to hear it."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Even that bit about him being a prat?" His attempt at joking gave me hope.

"Especially that bit. Just don't forget to mention the rest."

Amusement gleamed in his eyes, and for a moment, I could believe that James and Peter were relaxing happily next to us, like nothing was wrong. Then Sirius turned back to the water, and his pensive frown returned, banishing my daydream.

"What's your deal, Remus?" His tone was strangely calm, but the abrupt question made me tense.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you come looking for me? Why do _you_ trust me? What's your secret?"

He only seemed curious, but his phrasing jangled my nerves. Clutching a stone, I tried to figure out what to say. "I suppose I was just worried," I answered after a moment. Sirius frowned and stayed quiet. Afraid that I was backtracking, I stared down at the stone in my hands and summoned the courage to keep talking. "I know what it's like to hide something about yourself – to feel like no one would understand. But secrets build walls; they isolate you from the people who care about you. Most times, it's better to share the burden with someone, even if they might not understand it completely. I went after you because I wanted to give you the chance to do that. I didn't want you to be alone."

Sirius seemed to have frozen. Steeling myself, I lifted my eyes to his, and what I saw sent a chill down my spine. His eyes held a grating pain that I instantly recognized. It was clear that he'd been struggling with this for a lot longer than he let on, and I could sense how much he'd been bottling up. Empathy squeezed my heart. I knew exactly how that felt.

My sentiment seemed to wear down his final shred of resolve. After a long pause, he started to talk. He described his rocky relationship with his parents, beginning with his childhood rebellion and culminating in his Muggle friends being Obliviated. I listened intently, marveling at how much he'd distanced himself from his family before even coming to school. I couldn't grasp how someone could resent their parents so strongly, but his isolation and loneliness struck a chord with me.

He went on to talk about the written threats and denouncements he'd been receiving from various family members – aunts, uncles, and cousins – for being Sorted into Gryffindor. "I don't care much about them, though," he admitted. "It's my parents that worry me. They're acting even more psychotic than usual. My old pops said he was going to visit Hogwarts to talk to Dumbledore and have me re-Sorted."

"Can he do that?" I asked uncertainly.

"I don't think so, but I wouldn't put it past him to try. But my mother's been even more of a nightmare. She's already written me _four_ letters. The first day, she wrote me telling me how much of a disgrace I was, how she wished she'd never given birth to me...all that rubbish. The next ones were worse, though. She threatened to lock me in my room for the whole summer as punishment. Then she told me I'll be lucky if I still have a room when I come back. In the last one, she said she's going to withdraw me from Hogwarts and put me in some program for troubled kids if I don't write back."

"You haven't written back at all?" I guessed.

Sirius grimaced. "What am I supposed to say? 'Gee, Mum, I'm sorry I'm not the perfect son you wanted. I would appreciate it if you didn't kick me out on the streets or lock me up like a misbehaving dog.'"

"But she's your mother," I blurted, appalled. "She wouldn't do that, right?"

Sirius met my eyes wearily. "She might. I really don't know." The vulnerability in his voice broke my heart. He was genuinely afraid for the future, and there was very little he could do about it. It was no wonder he'd been so emotional whenever James had confronted him. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the water and continued, "I don't think she'll take me out of Hogwarts, though. She's too proud for that. It's bad enough that I broke the Slytherin tradition. If the rest of the family found out that I was in some special school for delinquents, they'd be merciless. My poor old parents would be a laughingstock." He shook his head. "I'm just waiting for all the shock and anger to wear off. Regulus goes to school next year, and I'm sure he'll be in Slytherin. Maybe they'll focus their energy on him instead." His hopeful tone turned ironic. "He wrote me too, by the way, telling me how angry Mum and Dad are – and that I should ask to switch Houses for my own good." He rolled his eyes. "Nice to know that my little brother is looking out for me."

"Maybe your friends can look out for you instead," I suggested meaningfully.

Panic flashed in his eyes. "No. You can't tell James and Peter." His tone fluctuated from demanding to desperate. "I don't want anyone else to know about this – at least not until my parents calm down."

"How long will that take?" I questioned uneasily.

Sirius clawed at his already messy hair. "I don't know. Just promise me you won't say anything. _Please_, Remus."

I paused, weighing my sympathy against my common sense. "Alright. I won't say anything if you don't want me to," I conceded. "But if you want to keep your friends, you need to be honest with them, Sirius. You can't hide this from them forever." I fought back a wave of nausea as I realized that the same statement could apply to me. _That's different, _I failed to convince myself.

For a second, Sirius looked angry at me. I braced myself for the tirade. Then all the fight drained from him, and he hung his head. "You're right. I know you're right. It's just..." He rubbed his face with his hands. Then he stared stubbornly at his reflection. "Alright. I'll tell them," he vowed, but when he turned back to me, his determined scowl went wry. "Just give me a few days. If I haven't told them by…I dunno, let's say Wednesday…then you can say whatever you like to them. But I _will_ tell them by then."

A few days seemed like an alarmingly long time to me. I reminded myself that Sirius had already taken a big step today by confiding in me; I didn't want to push him too far. But with the way he and James had been fighting lately, if he didn't come clean soon, it was only a matter of time before they were at each other's throats again.

"I'll give you until tomorrow night."

The shock and betrayal on my friend's face made me instantly regret being so bold. Why did I think I could boss him around? Sure, I was trying to do what was best for him, but I had no right to abuse the trust he'd just given me. I was about to retract my request when his expression hardened with resolve.

"Fine. Tomorrow night."

I was far too relieved that he'd agreed with me to wonder whether I should've pushed for more.

* * *

The peace barely lasted twenty minutes.

We were on our way back to the common room when we crossed paths with James and Peter in the Grand Staircase. For some reason, they looked like they'd just tried to wrestle with a thorn bush. Their hands and forearms were covered in bright red scratches, and James had a prominent scabbed line above his left eyebrow. The black-haired boy was wearing a grumpy scowl, but he seemed to relax a little when he saw us. "There you are! Blimey, where were you? We've been looking for at least twenty minutes!"

"At the lake," Sirius answered, and I felt a tiny wave of relief. As far as honesty went, it was a start. "What happened to you?" He asked, bewildered.

"Your owl came back," James announced, and Sirius stiffened. "She wasn't happy that you weren't there. I guess she still wanted a response, because she started attacking us—" Peter whimpered quietly at the reminder. Looking annoyed by the interruption, James finished, "So I gave her a piece of parchment, and she flew off."

Sirius expression morphed from guilt to alarm. "What did you give her?"

James scowled again. "Didn't you hear me? I said your bloody owl attacked us!"

Sirius winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize she'd freak out like that. You should go see Madam Pomfrey. I'm sure she can fix those scratches."

"That's what I said, but James wanted to find you first," Peter mumbled.

James glared at him. "Don't be a baby. You didn't even get scratched that badly. You threw yourself behind the couch while she focused on me."

Blushing, Peter looked like he wanted to protest, but he pouted and stayed quiet.

"Why did you want to find me first?" Sirius pressed uneasily. "What did you write on the paper?"

Judging by James's reluctant grimace, he'd been correct in making that connection. "Nothing sensible. I just scribbled on it and folded it up like a letter."

My stomach went numb with dread. Beside me, Sirius pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. "Wonderful. Mum will love that."

James became defensive. "Well, what was I supposed to do? Let the psychotic bird tear us apart?"

"Leave the room, maybe?" Sirius suggested crossly. "Lock yourself in the bathroom and wait for her to fly away?"

James looked a bit uncomfortable. "Can't you just send another letter and explain that it was a mistake?"

Sirius sighed in frustration. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?" James demanded. When a second passed with no answer, he continued flippantly, "Whatever. I'll send one myself, then."

"What?" Sirius seemed startled. "You can't do that!"

"Sure, I can. I'll apologize for the last letter. I'll sign my name and everything. That way your Mum will know it wasn't your fault."

Sirius's eyes were wide with horror. "That's a terrible idea."

James crossed his arms and glowered. "Why?"

"You don't know my parents. They'd think I was just covering up for myself. Besides, if they find out I've been hanging out with a P—" He caught himself, but it was too late.

James straightened. "What's wrong with the Potters?"

Sirius took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair; I could tell he was barely clinging to his composure. "Nothing, if you're asking _me_. But you know how my family is. They hate Blood-traitors."

"You just said I _don't_ know your parents. Do I know them or not?"

Clearly stressed, Sirius snapped frantically, "I don't know! It doesn't matter! Just don't try writing them. You can't. You don't even know my address."

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Islington, London," James recited. At Sirius's shocked expression, he explained, "You left the envelope on the table."

His gray eyes flashed dangerously. "You wouldn't."

"Relax, mate. I'm just going to tell them what happened."

"No, you _won't_! Stay out of it, James! This is _my_ problem!" Sirius's hand was hovering alarmingly close to his wand pocket.

James raised his eyebrows. "The way I see it, it became my problem too when your owl assaulted me. And if you're going to hex me, I should warn you that I can fight back when I'm not asleep."

Sirius's scowl twisted into a snarl. "Are you _trying_ to make me mad?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. Is it working?"

He laughed sarcastically. "You are the biggest git I've ever met."

"Are you going to do something about it? Or are you just going to run and hide again?"

Defiantly, Sirius whipped out his wand and shouted, "_Anteoculatia_!"

James gasped as he was hit with a jet of blue light. An impressive set of antlers sprouted up from his head, making him stagger under the weight. Sirius smirked for a half-second, looking smug. Then he pouted. "Hmph. I was hoping for ass ears."

"_Mutasinus_!"

With another flash of blue light, a pair of long gray ears unfurled from Sirius's shaggy hair. Stunned, he touched the furry additions. Adorned with the absurd antlers, James grinned cockily as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "You mean like that?"

For a split second, Sirius's lips twitched like he was about to smile. "Oh, I'll get you for that one..."

"That's enough!"

All four of us jumped. A young woman with long brown hair was marching down the stairs toward us. Her eyes were dark and somber, and her pretty face seemed familiar. A prefect badge glittered on her chest.

At once, Sirius's demeanor did a one-eighty. His buried his hands in his pockets and put on a winning smile, looking completely cool – except for the enormous donkey ears protruding from his head. "Drom! Didn't see you there."

"At school, you're to call me Andromeda," the prefect corrected in a pompous voice, and I suddenly realized why she was so familiar. She reminded me of a slightly older, brown-haired, dark-eyed Narcissa.

Sirius raised his palms, wisely leaving his wand in his pocket. "Sorry, cos. Won't happen again."

Andromeda's eyes glinted with annoyance. She arched her eyebrows at my two transfigured friends. "Would you care to explain the extra appendages?"

Sirius waved his hand dismissively, still trying for a charming air. "Aw, come on, Dro– er, Andromeda, we were just messing around."

"Yeah. We were practicing our Transfiguration skills," James inserted, putting on the same wide-eyed and innocent look that he'd given Madam Hooch.

"Last time I checked, transfiguring spells are considered hexes when they're used against other students," Andromeda corrected coolly. "And 'practicing' in the corridors is against school rules."

Sirius deflated in defeat. "Alright, fine. How many points are you docking us?"

"No points. I think it would be more appropriate to give you both detention."

The flicker of hope in Sirius's eyes was immediately squashed. "What? Why?"

"So you can sort out whatever _this_ is." She gestured haughtily at him and James. "I'll inform your Head of House, Professor McGonagall, to expect you in her office tonight at eight. She'll determine your punishment from there."

It was James's turn to protest. "_Tonight_? It's a Sunday!"

"Yes," Andromeda confirmed coldly. "So you can imagine how happy she'll be to see you."

Betrayal was written all over Sirius's face. "I thought you were on my side!" He blurted.

"Have you ever heard of tough love?" Andromeda asked sagely, and he glared at her. "Now, I advise you go to Madam Pomfrey and make yourselves decent. And don't even think about trying to skip tonight, or you'll have detention for an entire week. Got it?"

"Fine," Sirius growled. Without another word to his cousin, he stomped off toward the hospital wing, his donkey ears bouncing with each step. The rest of us followed quietly. James kept titling his head back and forth like he wasn't sure how to balance his new antlers. He quirked an eyebrow at Sirius, who was grumbling loudly to himself: "Of course my favorite cousin had to be a prefect – but why would she give me detention? I thought, at the Sorting…" He groaned. "Does no one in my family even _like me?_

I wasn't sure if Sirius was deliberately being more open with us or if he was simply too frustrated to hide it. Judging by James's subdued expression, he wasn't questioning it. "She didn't seem all that bad," he pointed out in a laid-back way. "At least she didn't take House points. I think if she really didn't like you, she'd have given us more than detention."

I thought Sirius was going to snap at him, but he seemed to have run out of energy to argue. "Whatever. It's still annoying."

James considered him for a moment. "This is your fault, you know," he declared. Sirius glared defiantly and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, James continued, "Sure, I started it by provoking you, but you retaliated by hexing me. So you started it the second time."

Sirius frowned, and his anger was replaced by confusion. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

James shrugged sheepishly. "Not a very good one. But I don't regret giving you those ears." His eyes glimmered with mischief. "They look good on you."

For a moment, Sirius seemed too stunned to respond. Then he said slowly, "I dunno. They might _look_ better on me...but I think they'd suit you more."

James smirked. "Well, you'd better learn that spell, or you'll never get to find out."

"Did your dad teach you that one too?" His tone was mocking, but it had lost its hostility.

"Nope. Taught it to myself."

Sirius seemed impressed. "Nice."

James looked smug. "Yeah, I know." Sirius smirked and shook his head, and James arched an eyebrow at him, unable to keep the playful smile off his face. "I think this is the part where you call me a cocky git."

"Ordinarily, yes, but I was actually going to ask you how to cast it."

Clearly pleased, James taught him the incantation and showed him the wand motions as we walked. I was kind of surprised that Sirius didn't decide to practice it on him right there, but he seemed remarkably relaxed. All the way to the hospital wing, Peter and I kept glancing at each other in bemusement, as our two friends exchanged friendly banter like they'd forgotten ever being mad at each other. I was starting to think that giving each other antlers and ass ears was the best thing they'd ever done.

It took Madam Pomfrey less than a minute to remove their new features, and she mended James's and Peter's scratches as well. I was half-afraid that without the amusing animal appendages, James and Sirius would go back to fighting, but the subject of the violent owl and the letters seemed all but forgotten as we left the hospital wing and headed for the common room. For most of the afternoon, we worked together to finish the homework before James and Sirius had to leave for detention. The two of them were proofreading each other's essays when the clock chimed fifteen minutes to eight. James quickly skimmed the last few sentences and handed back the paper with a flourish.

"Superb writing, Mr. Black. Twenty points to Gryffindor."

Sirius smirked and traded essays with him. "I'm pretty sure you misspelled 'McGonagall', but otherwise it looks fine."

James frowned at the header. "So it _is_ two 'L's? Dang. I thought yours was wrong."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted to see if she'd notice," he admitted with his usual impish grin.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, why not give her another reason to hate us?"

James shrugged. "I don't know about you, but she already likes me for turning that match into a needle. I'll just keep being awesome at Transfiguration. I'm sure she'll forgive a few detentions here and there."

"Already planning for the future?" I asked sardonically, and he and Sirius gave me identical mischievous grins. I shook my head in exasperation.

"Speaking of that, we'd better head out," James realized, quickly sorting his pile of books into his bag.

For two first years going off to their first detention, they seemed to be in surprisingly good moods. Hope and dread warred in my stomach as they bid us off. When the Fat Lady's portrait finally swung closed, Peter threw me a nervous look. "Do you think it'll last?"

I pondered his question. James and Sirius would likely be spending several hours alone together in detention. On one hand, they could get frustrated with their task and take it out on each other, which would bring us right back to where we'd started. On the other hand, it could be the perfect opportunity to clear up the confusion with Sirius's family situation, providing McGonagall wasn't monitoring them too closely.

But would either of them take the leap?

I sighed and murmured, "I certainly hope so."

* * *

The two of them returned at half-past eleven, when Peter and I were in bed. I could hear Peter snoring softly when the door creaked open and the sound of muffled snickers filled the room. Then Sirius whispered excitedly, "I still can't believe we got away with that. Remus is going to freak out when we tell him."

"Shh," James chided, but I could hear his grin as he murmured, "Tomorrow."

They both mumbled their good nights, and a wave of relief eased me further into my warm covers. I hardly cared what trouble my friends had gotten themselves into now; I was just glad to overhear a _happy_ conversation for once.

* * *

That Monday morning was amazingly peaceful...for the most part. There was slightly less shouting, at least.

At breakfast, James and Sirius wasted no time telling Peter and I what we'd missed last night. For their punishment, they had spent three hours alphabetically ordering all the files in Filch's office – without magic, of course. Their supervisor for the task was Filch's fluffy tabby kitten, Mrs. Norris, who served as a sort of watchdog for the caretaker by alerting him to troublemakers around the castle.

"It was bloody boring for a while—" James complained through a smile.

"—but get this," Sirius enthused, lowering his voice. "When we were nearly done, we saw a locked drawer labeled _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_."

My stomach turned, and I lowered my fork. "Please tell me you didn't open it."

"McGonagall told us to organize _all_ the files," James said innocuously, and Sirius grinned. I watched them with dread as James continued, "So, I distracted the paranoid kitten—"

"—He did this cool trick with his wand and made it look like a cat toy."

James shrugged, smirking. "My parents do it all the time with our cat. Anyway, while I entertained Mrs. Norris, Sirius broke into the drawer and did some investigating – er, I mean, _sorting_—"

"—And I scored _these_," Sirius finished proudly, placing two identical silver-rimmed mirrors on the table. I tensed, staring at the stolen items warily. They looked like normal pocket-sized mirrors, but if they were found in a drawer labeled _Highly Dangerous_...

Sirius rolled his eyes at me. "Relax, mate. They're not going to burst into flames."

"You don't know that," I muttered, though I doubted it. Figuring that they were safe enough to touch since I'd just seen Sirius do it, I carefully picked up one and examined it. My own worried face was reflected in the slightly smudged surface. "You should really turn these in..."

James looked shocked. "And let Filch know we nicked them? As if!"

"Yeah, you didn't even see the cool part yet!" Sirius insisted. He picked up the other mirror and said clearly, "Remus Lupin."

I gasped as Sirius's grinning face replaced my own reflection. "They're a pair?" I marveled, and I could hear my own amazed voice echoing through the opposite mirror.

"Yep. All you have to do is say the other person's name, and you can see and talk to them." Sirius pocketed his mirror, and his face vanished. My own reflection returned, leaving no indication that the mirror was enchanted. He grinned at my amazement. "Brilliant, aren't they?"

I frowned at the gleaming surface. I had to admit that the two-way mirrors could come in handy, but I still felt uneasy. "They might be charmed to do something nasty to the user over time."

"And Peter's potion _might_ have burned us, and James _might_ have crashed his broom," Sirius responded dryly. "Really, Remus, you act like we could drop dead at any second. Filch probably took them from some upper-year couple and couldn't figure out how to work them. He's a Squib; he probably thinks every magical item is _Highly Dangerous_."

I sighed. "Probably. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful..."

Just then, the Great Hall was filled with noise and chaos as owls surged through the windows. James beamed as his tawny owl, Iris, dropped a letter in front of him, but he paused to shoot a glare at the snowy owl next to him. His expression switched to alarm when he noticed the red envelope tied to the bird's foot. The irritable owl deposited the brightly colored letter in front of Sirius and flew off.

I'd never seen Sirius look so shocked. "I didn't think she'd do it," he breathed, picking up the red envelope like it was a bomb about to go off.

I watched in confusion. "It's a Howler," James explained before I could ask. "You'll see in a second."

Sirius gazed longingly at the candlestick. "You think if I just...?"

James shook his head. His tone was grim. "You'd better open it, mate."

I figured he was right, judging by the steam that was now coming out of the corners of the envelope. Grimacing like he'd just been ordered to dip his hand into a vat of acid, Sirius slowly peeled open the top flap. The scarlet envelope suddenly leaped out of his hands like it was alive, and a shrill voice exploded from inside, so loudly that it felt like the irate woman was screaming right next to me. Everyone in the Hall flinched and covered their ears as she erupted:

"_SIRIUS ORION BLACK_! YOU HAVE HUMILIATED ME FOR THE LAST TIME! FIRST, YOU DISGRACE OUR FAMILY NAME BY JOINING A HOUSE OF WEAKLINGS, AND NOW, AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU, YOU CAN'T EVEN WRITE ME A PROPER LETTER? ONCE THIS YEAR IS OVER, YOU HAD BEST COME HOME WITH YOUR TAIL TUCKED BETWEEN YOUR LEGS IF YOU HAVE ANY HOPE OF BEING ALLOWED OUTSIDE OF YOUR ROOM FOR THE REST OF YOUR PARASITIC LIFE! SLYTHERIN OR NOT, I EXPECT YOU TO GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER! IF YOUR BEHAVIOR IS ANYTHING SHORT OF PERFECT AT SCHOOL, YOU WILL REGRET THE DAY I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD!"

The envelope burst into flames, and the Hall sank into deafening silence. After a few long seconds, a ripple of nervous laughter cut the air, and the spell was broken. Gradually, everyone started talking again, but Sirius remained silent and stiff. He'd gone as white as a sheet. The three of us watched in uneasy silence as he exhaled a long, shaky breath and dropped his face into his hands. His shoulders started shaking. I tried desperately to think of something comforting to say, but then he threw his head back and belted out a loud, barking laugh. My mind went blank with shock.

"Well, that clears things up, doesn't it?" He said cheerily, grinning at all of us and looking quite insane. Even James was hesitant to smile back at him. "I think it's a bit ironic," he continued, and his grin faltered. "My parents are the ones who try so hard to look perfect, and now they're screaming at me in front of the whole school. It's all backwards." He swallowed tightly as a wave of emotion crashed over him. He took a deep, calming breath, but his eyes became desolate. "Whatever. She can bitch all she wants. I'm used to it." He smirked darkly. "Wait until she finds out I got a detention in my first week."

James was wearing a look that reminded me of when he'd reassured Sirius on the train, only three times as stubborn. "You don't deserve that, mate," he told him firmly. "Don't let her get to you. Who needs her anyway?"

Sirius grimaced. "_I_ do, at least until I'm old enough to get my own place."

James's hazel eyes burned with determination. Without a word, he opened the envelope from his own parents, and two separate pages fell out. Skimming the second one with a satisfied look, he passed it to Sirius, who frowned uncertainly. "Read it," James instructed. "Trust me, it's better than the last one."

As Sirius's gray eyes skimmed over the page, they grew wider and wider. He paused when he reached the bottom – and then went back to reread it. His eyes were still huge and disbelieving when he lowered the paper and turned to James, who was smiling like he was pleased with himself.

"Why...?" Sirius croaked. He couldn't seem to go on.

"After you told me about your family threatening you, I wrote back home. I didn't tell my parents _exactly_ what's going on, mind you, but...we have plenty of spare bedrooms if you ever need somewhere else to stay." James smile became a little sheepish, and he shrugged. "I've always wanted a brother."

Sirius looked very overwhelmed. He shook his head slowly. "I...I can't do that. Your parents...they don't mean it. You wouldn't want that."

James rolled his eyes and took the page from him. "'Dear Sirius," he read out loud, "'James has informed us that your family is giving you a hard time for being in Gryffindor. If you ever need somewhere to go, please don't hesitate to call us. You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you'd like. We would certainly appreciate you keeping James company. The house is quite big and empty, and he tends to wreck it when he's bored. Sincerely, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.'" James looked up at Sirius with raised eyebrows. "Sounds like they mean it to me."

Sirius was still shaking his head. "You wouldn't want that."

"Why not?"

"Because...I can be very annoying."

James laughed. "Perfect, me too. We'll get along great."

Sirius looked frustrated. "James, I can't just...I can't just run away and live with your family. As much as I'd like to, I don't think..." He winced. "My family is still my family, as horrid as they are. And...I don't think it would go well if I ran away before I've even learned a decent bit of magic."

James shrugged. "Fine, then. I'm not saying you _have_ to do anything, and the offer will still stand for as long as you need it. Just promise me you won't let your parents get to you so much. Remember what McGonagall said about the people in your House? Remus, Peter, and I are your family too. We won't leave you on the streets. Right, mates?"

"Of course," I agreed at once, and Peter nodded fervently.

For a few seconds, Sirius seemed frozen in an amazed, grateful trance. It looked like he was about to cry tears of joy. Then he gritted his teeth and punched James in the shoulder.

"_Ow_! What the—?"

"What's wrong with you?" He yelled, blinking furiously. "Why are you so..." He growled in frustration and rubbed his face with his hands.

James smiled knowingly. "You're welcome."

Sirius uncovered his face, and a brilliant grin spread across it. For the first time since he'd been Sorted, he was positively beaming. "Thank you. Really," he said softly. The relief in his voice made my heart fill with joy.

Still looking quite pleased with himself, James wiggled his eyebrows. "So...Orion, huh?" Sirius groaned and buried his face again, and James's eyes glittered. "You're telling me your initials are S.O.B.?"

Sirius tried to look annoyed, but he was too busy laughing. "Alright, forget it. There's no way I could stand living with you."

"You liar! You'd love it."

Watching them go back and forth with each other, I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

The next morning, I jolted awake to a strangled yell and Sirius's barking laugh. "You are so dead, Black!" James shouted, chasing a triumphant Sirius out of the room before doubling back for his wand. He was staggering awkwardly, and I noticed that one of his socks was lumpier than the other. I could still hear Sirius laughing as James hobbled down the stairs after him, grinning despite himself.

I exchanged a knowing look with Peter, and we shared a laugh. Something told me that James and Sirius had moved past friendship-endangering fights for good.

After all, we were family now.


End file.
